


If Not For Yourself, Then For Me

by Move_The_Farthest_Star



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bokuto Koutarou & Kuroo Tetsurou Friendship, Dubious Consent, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Prostitution, Sexual Violence, Threats of Violence, Underage Prostitution, Underage Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:28:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 15
Words: 38,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25738834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Move_The_Farthest_Star/pseuds/Move_The_Farthest_Star
Summary: Akaashi doesn’t want much. A roof over his head, food in the fridge, and above all a chance to play alongside Bokuto. But everything has a price, even a crummy apartment and cup ramen. What wouldn’t Akaashi pay to stay with his team at Fukurōdani? Surely the money was worth the many “clients” who paid for his nights. Surely he could take the hits to his safety, his sanity, his self-worth. He’s taken it all up until now, so he can bear it a little longer. Surely he can keep his teammates from worrying. Surely...(See end notes for a more straightforward summary)
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji & Bokuto Koutarou, Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Akaashi Keiji/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 96
Kudos: 382





	1. Damned.

Sweat on the court. Heat in the air. A whistle blows.

Fukurōdani won two straight sets against Shinzen. The boys whooped and cheered up a storm, masking a single reverent intake of breath from the sidelines. Akaashi Keiji witnessed something beautiful, cosmic even.

 _Fukurōdani,_ the name rolled around in his brain. It felt pleasant. He read the names on the back of every shirt—one in particular. “Bokuto,” slipped past his lips. It sounded more than pleasant.

Not even halfway through his visit, Akaashi knew where he would apply for high school. Fukurōdani was a powerhouse school, competitive, and far from home. But he’d gotten a recommendation, and he’d be damned if he didn’t come here and play alongside that passionate ace.

He’d be damned.

***

Sweat on the sheets, hot breath in the air, soft lighting, steady grunts, was that a whistle? No, nothing but the steady whirl of the video camera in the corner of the hotel room, live-streaming his latest degradation. Akaashi’s ass was sore and his thighs were heating up with the promise of bruises tomorrow morning. He grit his teeth and decided to charge the client extra for the spanking. Bruises like that would be hard to hide under volleyball shorts.

Akaashi abandoned his mental calculations when the client ran a hand up his inner thigh and fiddled with the vibrator in his ass. The jostling made Akaashi whine. The client coughed out what may have been a chuckle.

He leaned over Akaashi as he gripped the boy’s leaking cock in one hand and turned up the vibrations with the other. Akaashi gasped as he arched his body up into the client’s expectant lips. He kissed and sucked his way around Akaashi’s bare chest, moaning as he left a trail of spit.

Akaashi was panting hard now. He could feel the sweat accumulating on his lower back. He inhaled in the client with every breath he took. It was strange how well he distinguished the man’s scent, given that most smells disappeared quickly once the brain acclimated to them. He smelled old.

“Your fans are watching you,” the client mused with Akaashi’s nipple between his teeth. The computer next to the camera pinged with every new comment on the livestream. The vibrator was on its highest setting now and was just shy of the right spot. Akaashi angled his hips down to push the toy against his prostate. The motion, as with all things he did, was calculated and intentional. Putting on a show would earn him a little more money now and a little more popularity later from his anonymous viewership. The client cough-laughed again and pulled back, hand lazily stroking Akaashi’s erection. He whispered in Akaashi’s ear, claiming a modicum of privacy in the midst of their public display of intimacy.

“They pay so much just to see you, K-kun. I’m so lucky I get to be the one to make you come apart.”

Without warning, the man seized the end of the vibrator and plunged it into Akaashi’s ass, directing it right into—

“Yes!” Akaashi moaned. “Right there! Please, please, yes,” he trailed off into a pitiful mewl. The client was happy to oblige. He worked his grip to move the vibrator back and forth, back and forth, delightful pressure on his most sensitive spot. Heat pooled in Akaashi’s cock and his balls drew up. He felt his orgasm approaching full-speed.

“Keep going, don’t stop. I’m gonna come!” Akaashi screamed as his climax ripped through him. He painted his chest white and clenched hard on the vibrator. He swore he could hear a whistle now, could smell salonpas, hear the squeak of shoes on the court. Orgasms were like that for him. A single point in time when he loosened his hold. Or rather, he had it wrested away from him. Regardless, the sensations invaded his mind and pushed out the client’s stale cologne despite how he buried his lips in Akaashi’s neck. Notifications pinged out from the computer, mirroring the excitement of the live audience as they took part in his climax. But Akaashi had ascended past the cheap hotel room, floating in the ether of orgasmic bliss.

Akaashi didn’t even register the double toned ping that signaled a high-priced “donation”, permitting the donor to submit a request. The client spared a glance at the computer screen, annoyed that someone else wanted a hand in the action. He read the request and turned a devious grin toward Akaashi’s vacant expression. The client turned off the vibrator and pulled it out of Akaashi’s puckered hole. The client’s gentle grip on Akaashi’s flagging cock turned rough, and it pulled him out of his reverie.

“Stop, too sensitive,” Akaashi managed, but the client kept going. The stroking went past uncomfortable and became painful.

“Stop!” Akaashi barked.

“Your fans wanna see you come again, K-kun.” The client ran a tongue up his neck. “They paid good money for you.”

It hurt. Fuck, it burned. The client kept a steady hand on his cock, teasing the tip with every other stroke. Akaashi went mad with the sensation. He hated this feeling, the way the world comes back into view harsher and uglier and louder than before. He hated that clients and live viewers loved to see him like this. He hated that it was so easy for a stranger to manipulate his body like this. He tried to remind himself that this was strictly business. Hate had no place in a depersonalized transaction. Same with love. Or regret. Or contentment. No, he decided to leave those things somewhere else and turn his apathy into the experience his client wanted.

Akaashi exaggerated a whine, and the client took the sound as his cue to focus his ministrations on the head of his cock. He was pumping faster now, and Akaashi could feel another, much more painful orgasm building. The moment the client pulled back the foreskin and ran the pad of his finger under the head, Akaashi screamed.

He came again, and his hearing cut out. He couldn’t hear the pinging or the squelch of delicate skin in an unforgiving hand or even the moans and pants tumbling out of his own mouth.

Akaashi wanted to pull the covers over himself and curl up into a ball. He wanted to take a burning hot shower. He wanted to be anywhere but beneath a man who paid top dollar to torment him in front of a live audience.

But this was business. And all his wants fell short of the greater desire for money.

The client finally let go of Akaashi’s cock and rolled off the bed. After grabbing a hand towel from the night stand, he swiftly scanned through the comments from the past hour.

_Gawdd K-kun’s so sexy_

_‘d smash that tight ass anytime anywhere_

_Love it when he cries..so pretty_

The client disconnected the camera and closed out of the livestream window. The phrase “K-kun: Pay-to-Play” lingered briefly before the webpage disappeared. He turned to look at the beautiful mess he’d wrung out on the bed.

The high schooler had turned onto his stomach, ass jutting into the air slightly. He was careful not to let his aching cock brush against the sheets. Every so often, a muscle twitched in his leg or shoulder. The man felt an overwhelming sense of satisfaction. The boy, K-kun, was certainly pretty; the kind of pretty that made someone like the client want to pounce on him, pin his arms above his head and ravage him. The client couldn’t wait to get a copy of their video.

Just as he moved back to the bed, a knock sounded at the door before it opened.

A man stepped in with the gravitas of one who owned the room. The client knew who he was and expected him. After all, this was the man who arranged his and K-kun’s meet up tonight. He went by the moniker Sai, although the client suspected this was not his real name. Between Sai and K-kun and the client’s own preference to remain anonymous, this was a room of perfect strangers. Perfect strangers who exchanged money and fucked each other.

Sai asked, “How was he?”

The client grinned, “Excellent.”

“Good. Your hour’s up. You should leave now.”

The smile dropped from the client’s face. He wanted just a little bit longer to enjoy K-kun without the camera. But the Sai’s taller frame and stern grimace kept him from arguing. The message was clear: K-kun’s time was money, and his money just ran out.

The client washed his hands, collected his things, and remarked on his way out the door, “Your pimp sure is strict, K-kun.”

The door closed, and Akaashi, ass still propped up, remained with his “pimp”.

“I charged him extra for spanking you below the shorts line.”

Akaashi only managed a slight nod from where he was catching his breath on the bed. Sai continued, “You did well, Akaashi-kun. I transferred your cut to your account. You’ve got the room for the night. Take a shower and get some rest. You’ve got another client tomorrow night.”

Sai collected the camera and laptop. Akaashi couldn’t bring himself to move right away. In a moment, he’ll get up and wash off. He’ll leave and catch the last train back to his ratty apartment rather than spend the night in that stagnant hotel room. He’ll put on a cup of coffee and settle in to finish his homework and review the footage of his most recent volleyball game. But for now, he quieted his aching muscles, trying to catch the last traces of that feeling, that relief he felt during games, during climax.

There was nothing left. Just sweat-drenched sheets and a cold bed and the sound of drunken laughter coming from the streets of the red light district below.

As it turns out, Akaashi Keiji was damned either way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You’re in for some hurt!Akaashi. There will be underage prostitution involving kinks, dubious consent, rape, and violence entirely between Akaashi and original male characters. But this is also a story about self-worth and the many shapes of love. So, heed the tags and enjoy!


	2. Senpai and Kouhai

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morning practice is made more difficult when sore and exhausted. Akaashi knows that feeling far too well. He’ll do his best to act normal. He is the vice-captain and a senpai, after all. And morning practice is made easier when a certain ace is around.
> 
> (See end notes for any specific chapter warnings)

Akaashi was running on two hours of sleep, and it showed.

He stood outside the gym doors, willing the bags to disappear from under his eyes. Mondays were already rough, but seeing a client on a school night was even worse. At the very least, his wallet was lined for the week, and he‘d had a hot breakfast to start the day. He could do this.

”Morning Akaashi-senpai!” Onaga called as he and Anahori approached. On a team full of third years, Akaashi was still unaccustomed to being someone’s senior. Pride and guilt simultaneously twisted in his gut whenever the two first years called him “senpai”, as if he’d actually done anything to deserve that title.

 _If only they knew what their “senpai” got up to every night._ The thought flared up before he bitterly batted it away. He turned to his kouhai with a curt yet polite nod.

“Good morning Onaga-kun, Anahori-kun.”

”You’re here first, as always,” Anahori remarked.

”Of course he is. Can’t trust Bokuto-san with the keys to the club room,” Onaga joked.

Akaashi focused on unlocking the gym doors, hiding the smile that inadvertently stretched across his lips at the mention of Bokuto’s name. Onaga and Anahori continued bickering while Akaashi turned on the lights and unlocked the supply room. The time for morning practice approached, and gradually all the Fukurōdani team members scuttled in.

Akaashi settled in to the motions of setting up, diminishing the spaciness in his head and soreness of his lower back into dull aches and pains of an early morning. The good thing about morning practice was that everyone was a little out of it—well, almost everyone.

“Hey hey! Good morning, Akaashi!” Bokuto’s voice boomed across the gym the moment he threw the doors open. Akaashi was a little embarrassed at how Bokuto addressed him specifically without even seeing him first. Embarrassed but also a little pleased.

Bokuto’s arm slung around Akaashi’s shoulder, and the weight grounded him pleasantly.

”Good morning, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi returned with a slight smile.

”It’s really cold for November, huh? Supposed to snow next week.”

Akaashi nodded in agreement. Bokuto continued, “I kinda like it. It makes jogging to school more exciting. I’m totally awake now!” To prove his point, Bokuto jumped in place a few times. Akaashi took in the sight with a measured glance and instantly felt invigorated, even playful.

”Mm, then you should be able to hit every toss today,” Akaashi said, never ceasing his ministrations as he strung up the net. Konoha, who was fastening the other end, snorted at the same time Bokuto yelled, “Yeah! Just watch me!”

Bokuto darted off to change into his practice attire, and Akaashi could still hear his voice carry down the hallway, greeting every player and letting them know just how many kills he was gonna make today. And even though the gym doors were closed tight against the brutal chill of a winter’s morning, Akaashi felt a gust of sweet air fill his lungs.

***

Morning practice proceeded as usual, and even though he didn’t hit every toss inbounds, Bokuto’s spirits were still high by the time they finished. He took a swig of water and handed out towels as Akaashi directed Onaga and Anahori to start mopping.

Ever since the start of winter term, Bokuto and Akaashi agreed to handle the manager duties for morning practice while Yukie and Kaori focused on college prep. Bokuto had the time since he wasn’t on a university track, and Akaashi said he could do it since he was only in his second year. He even decided to take the keys and handle morning set up, explaining that he didn’t want to disrupt Bokuto’s jogging routine. The two managers called him thoughtful; Coach Yamiji called him responsible; Konoha called him sucker, but not without a teasing fondness. Akaashi didn’t mind either way. He wanted his team to do well, and, for his part, he could do this much.

Bokuto always picked up the slack for morning clean up, but Akaashi didn’t leave much slack to begin with. By the time Bokuto handed out all the towels and water bottles, Akaashi already finished everything else. Bokuto approached him, towel in hand which Akaashi accepted.

”Thank you, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto was about to respond when Anahori interrupted. “We finished mopping, Akaashi-senpai. Onaga and I are gonna head to class now.”

Akaashi sent them off with a nod, and Onaga and Anahori zipped out of the gym with a quick “See you later, Akaashi-senpai! Bokuto-san!”

As the door shut behind the two first years, Bokuto turned to Akaashi and asked dumbfoundedly, “Why do they call you senpai but not me?”

Akaashi gave Bokuto a steady look, mulling over how to respond. Konoha and Washio, the only other team members still in the gym with them, wandered over into their conversation. Konoha quipped, “Your ego couldn’t handle it, Bokuto-kun.”

The blood drained from Bokuto’s face, and he adopted a look of despair. He lamented, “What do you mean? I’m a role model, aren’t I?”

Washio slid in next to Konoha and chimed, “If anything, we should all be calling Akaashi-kun ‘senpai’.”

Akaashi choked on his water at that remark. Konoha slapped him on the back in an effort to help him. Washio laughed at the scene, particularly at Bokuto’s heartbroken expression. Their ace always wore his emotions immediately and unapologetically.

The joviality was cut short when one of Konoha’s slaps hit lower than intended, right above the small of Akaashi’s back—right where he bent and bowed for the better part of an hour the night prior. Pain shot through his body, and Akaashi yelped. Konoha stilled his hand and looked at Akaashi in shock.

”Akaashi-kun, are you okay?”

Heat flushed Akaashi’s face as the memory and muscular strain of rough sex returned full force, driving out the joyous distraction practice afforded him. He felt more than heard the way his cry sounded just now. All sensation and instinct and pathetic. In his head, he knew his teammates couldn’t intuit everything just from one reaction, especially since a slap on the back from any volleyball player was bound to hurt. Yet a deeper part of him, a part that hides in the shadowy side of his psyche only detected their silent stares. He didn’t move, couldn’t move. Couldn’t blink. Couldn’t breathe. He needed their attention off of him right away. He needed out.

An arm slid around his shoulder, brushing Konoha’s arm away. The weight grounded him.

”C’mon, ‘kaashi. We gotta get changed or we’ll be late for class,” Bokuto’s voice reached into the recess Akaashi had fallen into. Akaashi locked eyes with Bokuto and nodded dumbly.

The pair headed towards the club room with Bokuto’s arm still draped around Akaashi. Bokuto chirped his way through light conversational topics, and Akaashi hummed along. Konoha and Washio followed behind from a moderate distance and engaged in their own dialogue, seeking to dispel the tension.

”Bokuto does act like a senpai sometimes,” Washio observed.

”Yeah,” Konoha agreed. He was silent for a moment before he added, “Only with Akaashi, though.”

The four of them chatted idly while changing from workout clothes to school uniforms. If anyone noticed the rapidity with which Akaashi switched clothes or the way he angled himself to hide the back of his legs from the others, no one commented.

Bokuto walked Akaashi to class, as he did after every morning practice. When he first started doing it, he claimed it was so they could debrief captain to vice captain. Now, he dropped the pretense, and everyone on the team knew that he just liked being around Akaashi.

By the time they reached class 6 in the second year wing, Akaashi had fully rejoined the living. Bokuto finally slid his arm off of Akaashi’s frame, but not without first giving a gentle squeeze to his shoulder.

”See you at lunch! I’ll buy you some bread,” Bokuto promised.

Somewhere, on an intangible plane of existence residing in Akaashi’s chest, a vise tightened. He always accepted when the other third years offered to buy him food. He couldn’t afford not to. But not Bokuto, never Bokuto. He wouldn’t allow himself to accept anymore from Bokuto than he already did.

”Don’t buy me anything,” Akaashi barked. He winced at his own shortness and then again at the minuscule quirk of Bokuto’s right eyelid. Akaashi amended, “But I’ll have lunch with you.”

Akaashi slipped into the classroom before Bokuto could object. He shut the door behind him, and the sweet breeze of air immediately vanished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No smut this chapter. Plenty of character time and insight into character relationships. Enjoy!
> 
> In case you want a refresher on the Fukurōdani folk mentioned in this chapter:  
> Coach - Yamiji Takeyuki  
> Managers - Shirofuku Yukie (3rd year) & Suzumeda Kaori (3rd year)  
> #2 - Washio Tatsuki, MB (3rd year)  
> #4 - Bokuto Kōtarō, Captain/WS/OH/Ace (3rd year)  
> #5 - Akaashi Keiji, Vice Captain/S (2nd year)  
> #7 - Konoha Akinori, WS/OPP (3rd year)  
> #10 - Anahori Shūichi, S (1st year)  
> #12 - Onaga Wataru, MB (1st year)


	3. Wanted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akaashi meets up with Sai. Konoha gets a craving for a McFlurry. Anything can happen on a Friday night...
> 
> (See end notes for chapter specific warnings)

Akaashi had a routine. Mornings and afternoons were meant for class and volleyball club. He would get a text from Sai sometime during the day for details on his next meet up, but otherwise he was free to be a student athlete during the school day, just like he wanted. Most days he even had the time for post-practice practice with Bokuto. Akaashi treasured those days.

He did have to budget his time (and water bill) to accommodate his night job. Akaashi depended on the luxury of a quick shower beforehand and the necessity of a long shower afterwards to bracket his time as K-kun. Clock in, clock out, get paid. Then he’d grab dinner from the konbini down the street, finish his homework, and spend the remaining hours in slumber.

If it was a Thursday, he called home and reassured his parents that yes he was alright, yes he was eating enough, yes his grades were good, yes his part time job paid enough, and no they don’t need to come visit, no they don’t have send him more money because they really should save up to fix the heater before the snowfall starts.

If it was a Friday, Sai treated him to dinner at a McDonald’s near Akaashi’s apartment. Usually he brought news of a client scheduled for the weekend, one who paid double for something more...intense. Akaashi never wanted to do whatever it was, but Sai always managed to convince him. He‘d been good at that kind of thing ever since they met over a year ago: Akaashi standing outside the restaurant one night trying decide whether or not to forgo dinner so he could save up for a winter coat.

On this particular Friday, Akaashi resigned himself to anything so long as it wasn’t another livestream.

”You really didn’t like that, did you?” Sai asked over a greasy plastic tray piled high with burgers and fries.

”It was too much to keep track of. All those people. It was exhausting,” Akaashi admitted, eyes averted out the window.

Sai considered Akaashi’s disposition before commenting, “You’re pretty good at that sort of thing, though. And not just in bed either. You think quick on the court, too.”

Akaashi’s expression sharpened, and he directed his gaze at the older man. “You‘ve seen me play?” Sai met Akaashi’s glare with a lukewarm smile and said nothing.

Akaashi continued, “I thought I told you not to come to my games.” He internally recoiled at how whiny he sounded and quickly turned his attention back out the window.

Sai set down his burger and sighed, “You objected so much that it made me curious! I just want to support you, Akaashi-kun. You’re really good, you know.”

Sai’s hand slotted atop Akaashi’s, and he fought to tamp down the fluttery sensation he felt at the praise. Sai would say anything. He knew that. Akaashi shouldn’t put so much stock in his words.

”You don’t believe me?” Sai inquired. Akaashi knew that tone. He could predict the look on Sai’s face before he even looked up. Scrunched eyebrows, tilted head, mouth corners turned downward in an unassuming pout, all in an effort to project comforting concern. It made Akaashi doubt himself every time.

”You don’t have to come to my games, but thank you,” Akaashi relented.

Sai’s caring expression relaxed so quickly, Akaashi wondered if it was ever there save for the slight crinkle around his eyes. _Good, a self-satisfied Sai was good,_ Akaashi reminded himself.

”I’d rather save my mental stamina for games and school,” Akaashi explained. He felt more than heard the defensive shift in his tone. No demands, no ultimata. He knew his place during these Friday night dinners.

”I understand,” Sai intoned. “Don’t worry, there won’t be a livestream this week. This guy wants you alone.”

Nothing about that statement kept Akaashi from worrying.

Sai continued, “He wants to go camping with you.”

”What?”

”He’s got a timeshare in the mountains. Nice one, too. Cozy log cabin, cocoa by the fire. He’s got deep pockets. Your favorite type of clientele,” Sai joked. There was a time when Akaashi might’ve cringed at this kind of conversation, but he didn’t anymore. He’d rather get right to the point.

”When and for how long?”

”Just the weekend. Saturday morning through Sunday night.”

”I can’t.“

Sai’s face no longer showed satisfaction. Akaashi became suddenly aware of of the vise in his chest, the ever-present pressure.

”I mean, not until Saturday night. I’m not free until then.”

Silence. Too much silence and too stern of a look for too long. A vacuum swelled and encompassed them. It sucked the air right out of Akaashi’s lungs, leaving the vise with plenty of room to constrict. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. All he could see was the pinpoint glint of Sai’s disapproving gaze. Dark, vast, consuming. And then—

”Akaashi-kun?”

The vacuum burst. Akaashi’s head whipped around at the call of his name if only to avoid Sai’s eyes. He couldn’t tell if he was relieved or panicked to see a familiar face.

”Konoha-san,” Akaashi breathed.

”I didn’t mean to interrupt. But I thought I saw you, so I came over to say hi.” Konoha turned to Sai and bowed slightly, “Hello, I’m Akaashi’s teammate.”

”Konoha, was it?” Sai grinned.

Panicked. Akaashi was definitely panicked.

”I’m an old family friend of Akaashi-kun’s,” Sai lied with ease.

”Oh,” Konoha nodded. It was a simple explanation, given the age difference and lack of any familial resemblance. Akaashi was almost grateful for how slick Sai was.

He was less grateful when Sai continued, “You should join us, _Konoha-kun_.” The familiarity in Sai’s speech didn’t escape Akaashi’s detection—nor Konoha’s, if the marginal stiffening of the older boy’s posture was anything to go by. But Sai was good at what he did.

Akaashi saw Konoha move to pull up a chair, seemingly unaware he was doing it, and Sai was wearing that same cavalier smile that lowered a person’s guard. The same smile he wore the night he approached Akaashi right outside this restaurant and explained how he’d seen him around before, offered to buy him a meal, and another meal, and pay for his winter coat, and his rent, and how about you spend the night, Akaashi-kun? How about you let another guy pay for your next meal? All you have to do is eat it with him in his car, let him feel you up a bit, maybe kiss him a little, maybe jerk him off. You need to pay your phone bill, right? Maybe go down on the next guy. Utilities? School supplies? Ride the next guy on a hotel bed with a pair of lace panties pulled to the side while he slaps your ass. You need help, right? How about it _K-kun_? You‘ll never have to worry about anything again, not while I’m around.

Hardly 0.5 seconds passed before Akaashi stood up so fast that he knocked his chair over.

”We can’t stay,” he announced. “We have a thing.”

It was the best he could drum up in the moment. His tongue was no where near as silver as Sai’s. But the older man complied.

”Ah, that’s right. Sorry, Konoha-kun. Let’s do this another time.”

Konoha, for the most part, just looked confused. Akaashi knew it was because of his own behavior. He already drew too much attention to himself earlier this week. Fuck it, Akaashi would smooth it over with Konoha later. Right now, he just needed to get Sai away from his teammate.

Akaashi all but dragged Sai out of the restaurant, not even daring to read the look on Konoha’s face as they left. Sai was a tall man, even from the perspective of a boy immersed in the world of volleyball players. He was reasonably fit, too. The only reason Akaashi could pull him along was because Sai let him. He caught up to Akaashi’s pace with ease and eyed the boy curiously, playfully. He waited until they were a decent distance from the restaurant before slipping a hand around Akaashi’s waist and guiding him through the parking structure to his car. Akaashi slid into the passenger seat wordlessly and waited for Sai to get in and shut the door.

Sai didn’t start the car. He was waiting. Akaashi didn’t know if Sai was annoyed or amused at his antics. He didn’t want to look at him to find out. Sai knew what he was doing. He knew how carefully Akaashi separated his work and school lives. Akaashi knew what he was waiting for.

”I’m sorry,” Akaashi exhaled, finally breaking the silence. “I have a practice match tomorrow. I won’t be free until after 5.” He hung his head to avoid Sai’s gaze. “Would it be okay if I met the client then?”

”Why are you lying to me?” Sai whispered, but in the silence of the parking garage he may as well have shouted in Akaashi’s ear.

”I’m not—“

”Your practice match ends at 2. What’re you doing until evening?”

Regardless of how Sai acquired this information on his team’s schedule, Akaashi knew he couldn’t evade such a direct question. He averted his eyes once more and meekly replied, “I’m supposed to help someone study.”

They sat in stillness for a moment before Sai burst out laughing.

”Oh Akaashi-kun,” Sai managed between peals of laughter, “you’re amazing. Always thinking about others.” Sai ruffled a hand in Akaashi’s hair while his laughter petered out. “Okay, I’ll talk to the client. See what I can do. It’s good that you told me.”

Akaashi peered through Sai’s hold on his head and took in his demeanor. He was in much better spirits, and Akaashi didn’t want to jeopardize that. Still, there was one more thing he had to address before he lost the nerve.

”Thank you,” Akaashi blurted out first to keep the atmosphere amiable. He continued, “...And don’t involve my teammates. Please.” 

He hoped he phrased it correctly. He didn’t want Sai to think he was ungrateful. Sai’s joviality sobered amid the remnants of laughter. He let his hand dip from Akaashi’s head down his cheek to gently tilt his chin up.

”Are you more worried about your friends or about what your friends would think of you?”

Akaashi had no where to look but into Sai’s eyes. The vise in his chest tightened one more notch. Even disguised as a question, Akaashi recognized the threat of exposure. He understood that he wasn’t really protecting his friends but protecting himself, guarding his shame. His realization must have made its way to his face because Sai picked up on it immediately.

”Oh Akaashi,” Sai cooed, “you really thought you were being noble there, didn’t you?”

Akaashi felt the blood leave his fingers and toes. His throat constricted. His eyes burned. He was going to cry, and he hated it.

”Shh, shh, shh,” Sai comforted. He traced his thumb across Akaashi’s chin. “It’s okay. You’re young. You’re still figuring out how the world works.”

Akaashi recalled the first time he heard Sai croon those words. It was the first time Sai asked Akaashi to come home with him. They sat outside his apartment in this very same car, and Sai asked Akaashi how far he’d gone. Akaashi, barely into the second term of his first year, blushed and stuttered out that he’d never even kissed anyone. Sai gripped his chin, uttered that line about how young he was, and captured Akaashi’s lips in one motion.

He taught Akaashi how to kiss, from chaste to passionate to ravenous. He took Akaashi upstairs and splayed him on the bed. Unbuttoned his shirt while sucking on his neck. Toyed with his nipples until they were pink and sore. Dipped a hand below the waistband of his pants and rubbed him through his boxers. Stripped bare, lips wrapped around a swelling erection, lubed-up fingers teased his entrance. First one finger penetrated, then two, then three, filling him with a pressure that teetered between pleasure and pain. A condom rolled down onto the hard cock of the first man who would ever enter him. The walls of his ass tingled from the friction while his legs were held open obscenely wide. Jacked off until he came and spasmed and clenched down hard on the dick in his ass. Fucked through his climax. Semen-slicked fingers in his mouth. The taste of his own cum. Hips stilled until he whined, moaned, begged for more. Riding, up and down, chasing that feeling. Hands gripped his hips and slammed his ass down hard, flooding him with the sensation of a cock releasing inside him. Cock pulled out, a wanton ache of lost connection.

Akaashi learned many things that night. He learned how to give head and like it, how to push past the sensitivity for the sake of his partner’s orgasm, how to clean the lube out of his ass. But more than anything he learned just how pathetic he was. Not just for what he did, but for how desperately he did it and how good it felt. Akaashi knew that Sai would say anything to get what he wanted, but that hardly mattered when what he wanted was Akaashi.

Sai didn’t usually ask for sexual favors from Akaashi. He was much happier to let clients do the asking and the taking and the paying. Akaashi knew this. But once in a while, Sai would get that pitying look in his eyes and deign to remind Akaashi of the sickly balm of being wanted, no matter how ignoble and awful the boy believed he was.

That same look graced Sai’s countenance now on that cold November night in the parking garage. He held Akaashi’s chin between his fingers, and the boy was fully crying now. Akaashi shut his eyes and leaned into Sai, pressing their lips together. Akaashi located gratitude among the cacophony of emotions swirling in his chest, and he latched on to that feeling. He would permit himself that solitude in his squalid life. He held that kiss longer than any he’d done with any of his clients. When he finally pulled away, Sai’s gaze held nothing but fondness. Or was it satisfaction? It was hard for Akaashi to tell through watery eyes, but he knew one thing for sure: _Sai is happy, so I’m happy too._

***

Konoha retreated behind a pillar in the parking garage, trying to process what he just saw. He squeezed the coat Akaashi left behind at the McDonald’s in one hand and ran a hand through his hair with the other. He’d only meant to return the coat. He didn’t anticipate creeping on Akaashi and his...?

Konoha peaked around the pillar just in time to see the car pull out of the parking garage. He watched the taillights disappear and thought back to what he saw.

Akaashi was definitely alone with that guy in a parked car. Not strange at all for someone whom you left with.

That guy definitely ruffled Akaashi’s hair and tilted his chin up. Not too weird for an affectionate family friend.

But they definitely kissed. And not just a kiss, but a _long_ kiss. Long enough for Konoha to stop in his tracks from approaching the car and to catch a glimpse of the older guy staring _directly at him_ through the window. And did he wink?

By that point, Konoha was already behind a pillar out of instinctive panic. He breathed deeply and exhaled. Akaashi was a reserved person. Maybe he didn’t want to be open about his relationship. That guy did seem considerably older, maybe in his late twenties? In that case, Konoha could understand why Akaashi was so eager to leave after running into a classmate.

But still, it didn’t feel quite right. Even if there’s always more to a person than anyone can ever truly know, and even if Akaashi had a secret boyfriend that Konoha didn’t have a right to know about, something was still off.

”Was Akaashi-kun...crying?” Konoha wondered aloud. He looked in the direction the car drove off in and wondered about Akaashi and—what was his name? _Oh,_ Konoha realized, _he never told me his name._

Konoha tucked Akaashi’s forsaken coat under his arm and absentmindedly headed for home. He resolved to return the coat at their practice match tomorrow, meaning he had the whole night to agonize over how he was going to approach Akaashi without devolving into an awkward mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ch. 3 warnings: scenes and mention of underage sex, underage prostitution, and emotional manipulation.


	4. Complicated, Simple.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Fukurōdani v. Nekoma practice game commences, Akaashi’s got a lot on his mind, and Kuroo—for better or for worse—is a naturally kind person.
> 
> (See end notes for any chapter specific warnings)

Kuroo was not stupid. Sure, he did plenty of stupid things, especially when Bokuto was around, but he, himself, was not stupid. He aced tests, could read block like a champ, organized practices, and still had the mental wherewithal to keep track of his teammates like it was second-nature. He knew when Kenma was tired of running, when Lev half-assed his receive, when Inuoka stopped paying attention because he got distracted by a passing car.

It didn’t just stop there. He honed his perception skills and instilled them into his team. Nekoma was known for studying and adapting to any opponent, and that was, in part, due to Kuroo’s leadership. And for all the times Nekoma practiced against Ubugawa, Shinzen, and Fukurōdani, he figured he had a pretty good understanding of other teams as well. For instance, Kuroo’s impression of Karasuno’s captain as a shrewd and reliable guy was not only accurate but instantaneous. That is to say, he’d gotten pretty good at reading people right off the bat.

His awareness was an asset during a match, but it was occasionally bothersome. When he saw Akaashi and Konoha across the gym before the practice match started, he detected their discomfort immediately. The frustrating bit was that he also recognized that it was none of his business.

The practice match proceeded. It was a contentious battle, as it always was when it came to Nekoma and Fukurōdani. Their third set went into a deuce, and although Kenma was clearly annoyed that the game was still going, he powered through his exhaustion and even won the match with a setter dump, just out of Akaashi’s reach. The whistle sounded, and Bokuto wailed in disbelief—pretty standard stuff. Still, Kuroo couldn’t help but notice Akaashi’s expression from across the net. He didn’t seem disappointed at losing or exasperated from Bokuto’s antics like usual. He looked...vacant?

It was a look Kuroo had seen on Akaashi’s face more and more recently, and it usually dissipated whenever Bokuto called out to him. But this time it lingered.

Both teams debriefed with their coaches and got to cleaning up. Kuroo leaned against the wall and toweled the sweat off his face. He felt Kenma settle in beside him. “Did you notice?” Kenma asked without looking up from his phone.

”Akaashi?” Kuroo returned without really needing confirmation. Kenma was even keener than Kuroo when it came to reading people.

”He was off his game the whole time but especially at the end. He kept shifting between wanting the game to drag on and wanting it to end.”

”I know which one you wanted,” Kuroo grinned. “You took advantage of his indecision and dumped the ball right in front of him.”

Kenma’s scrolling never faltered. “Busted,” he murmured without remorse. “If Shōyō were here, he would’ve made me keep playing.”

Kuroo easily saw over Kenma’s shoulder that he was currently messaging none other than Hinata himself. Kuroo‘s grin widened as he corrected, “He wouldn’t have to make you. You’d _want_ to keep playing if it were Chibi-chan.”

Kenma didn’t acknowledge Kuroo’s jab. Instead he said, “Aren’t you going to go talk to Akaashi?”

”Why would I? It’s not my business.”

”That never stops you.”

Kuroo pressed a hand to his chest and feigned great offense. Kenma continued, “Besides, aren’t you a ‘naturally kind person’?”

”Chibi-chan told you about that?”

”Even Shōyō saw through your crap.”

Kuroo barked out a laugh as he pushed away from the wall. “I _am_ a kind person,” he declared.

”You’re a nosy person,” Kenma returned.

”Am not.”

”Are to.”

Kuroo was halfway across the gym when he uttered another “am not” under his breath only to hear Kenma shoot back “are to.”

***

Akaashi knew he wasn’t focused on the practice match. It wasn’t his fault. He had to wake up to a message from Sai this morning:

_Good news! Client said okay to a shorter vacation in exchange for RP-PP. Pack accordingly._

Akaashi deciphered Sai’s message. Role play, pet play. Although Sai only abbreviated for convenience, Akaashi appreciated the discretion it afforded. He wasn’t thrilled about role playing with clients. Even if the role his client chose wasn’t explicitly degrading, it was still a farce. It was taxing to pretend to want to have sex with a client let alone pretend to be someone else on top of it.

”Pack accordingly” referred to a collection of accessories Akaashi accumulated from past role plays. Animal ears and collars, school uniforms and lingerie, an exact replica of Robin’s costume from the 1960s Batman TV show gifted to him by a client with a very specific fetish. Akaashi kept the hodgepodge of items in a duffel bag shoved deep in his closet. He only ever pulled it out when Sai explicitly told him to, preferring to forget its existence otherwise.

Before leaving, Akaashi emptied that same duffle bag and repacked it for the weekend getaway, burying the pet accessories deep within his clothes and toiletries. Sai would pick him up as soon as the practice match ended and immediately drive him to the client’s timeshare.

If that wasn’t enough to weigh down his spirits, Konoha approached him before the practice match began. Akaashi cursed internally, realizing he forgot to plan for this interaction. Luckily, Konoha didn’t seem to be looking for an explanation. He stiffly handed Akaashi’s coat over and mumbled something like “nice running into you” with a light blush on his cheeks.

Maybe that should have concerned Akaashi more, but between the practice match and the cat tail butt plug burning a hole through his bag, he didn’t have the bandwidth. He knew he was slipping. If he could just get through the game, then he’d have one less thing to keep in his head. Then again, once the game ends, he knew who was waiting for him in the parking lot. Shit, he didn’t know which was worse. No time to dwell on it—the game started. Sarukui called for the ball. _What if the client wants me to spend the weekend crawling around on all fours?_ Crap, it’s his turn to serve. _When am I going to finish my history paper?_ Damn, he mistimed the block. Fuck, Kenma’s staring at him. Kuroo’s staring. Konoha. Yamiji. Bokuto. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

The whistle blew and the match was over. Nekoma won the third set, 27 to 25.

Was he relieved or stressed? It was getting harder and harder to tell lately. Akaashi pitched in with clean up and gathered up his belongings to leave. If he forwent changing and slipped away now, he and Sai would be gone by the time everyone else left the gym. He was halfway out the door when Kuroo called out to him.

He was so close to his escape. Akaashi turned around and donned a look somewhere between dismissive and hostile.

”What is it, Kuroo-san?” Akaashi asked. Kuroo’s expression tightened at the unprompted shortness. He spotted Akaashi’s duffle slung around his shoulder in addition to his normal volleyball bag.

”Going away for the weekend?” Kuroo asked out of simple curiosity.

Akaashi gripped the duffle bag strap unconsciously. “Yeah,” he replied. “Do you need something from me?”

”I just wanted to see if you’re alright.”

”I’m fine. Just a little tired,” Akaashi figured that was polite and vague enough to discourage further questioning. He turned to leave once more.

”Bullshit.”

 _Apparently not._ Akaashi turned back and fixed a glare on Kuroo.

”I mean,” Kuroo wavered, “I’m sure you’re tired. We’re all tired. Balancing school and volleyball is hard. But today especially, you seemed really off. It’s not like you.”

The vise in his chest creaked, and he heard something snap.

”What do you know about me?” Akaashi struck. Kuroo was dumbfounded by the venom in his voice. That was something Kuroo hadn’t seen in Akaashi before. Akaashi—reserved, level-headed, good-boy Akaashi—was pissed.

Kuroo racked his brain for some way to backpedal, but found none. Fortunately, a wonderful distraction picked that moment to bound up.

”Akaashi!” Bokuto shouted as he clapped a hand on the younger boy’s shoulder. Akaashi startled at the interruption, Kuroo breathed a sigh of relief, and Bokuto was unperturbed.

”Are you ready to go?” Bokuto asked.

Akaashi blinked owlishly at his captain before a dreaded realization dawned on him. He forgot to cancel their study plans. Fuck, he was slipping so badly.

”I’m sorry, Bokuto-san. I can’t anymore. Something came up.”

Akaashi wasted no more time. He ducked out from under Bokuto’s arm—that solid, steady arm—and disappeared out the door. Bokuto and Kuroo stood in silence at the unusual exchange, the former disappointed and the latter shaken.

”Did he seem a little weird to you?” Bokuto asked.

Kuroo merely shrugged unhelpfully. Bokuto ripped open the gym doors and tilted his head out, looking for Akaashi in the parking lot. He saw his setter slam a trunk closed and duck into a car. Bokuto stepped out to wave the car down when Konoha materialized beside him and pulled him back inside.

”Wha? What’s wrong, Konoha?” Bokuto questioned as he took in Konoha’s frenzied eyes.

”Don’t, um, don’t...just don’t,” Konoha supplied. Kuroo’s curiosity reignited. He leaned into Konoha’s space and offered a knowing stare.

”What do you know, Konoha-kun?”

Konoha’s internal panic ran rampant: _Oh, how I’ve been dying to process this aloud with someone. Ah, but it‘s not my secret to tell. Hm, but it’s not like Akaashi told me anything, I’m only theorizing. Er, but knowing Bokuto, this may upset him. Eek, but isn’t Kuroo’s face just a little too close for comfort?_

”I think Akaashi is seeing someone.”

The words tumbled out before Konoha knew it. He slapped a hand over his mouth, and Kuroo would’ve found the gesture comical if Bokuto didn’t look so heartbroken.

”Oh,” Bokuto said. “He never told me about that.”

Konoha looked ready for the world to swallow him up. He shifted his weight uncomfortably and eked out, “Well, he didn’t really _tell_ me either. I just happened to see them together. I could be wrong.”

Kuroo recalled Akaashi’s demeanor, the bite in his words. He supposed that a secret relationship could make anyone cagey and more stressed out than usual.

Bokuto let out a long, low whistle. “Well if Akaashi’s happy with someone, that’s a good thing.” He locked his fingers behind his head and spun around on his heel, whistling and flitting about. Konoha watched him breeze away, unsure of how to interpret his captain’s behavior.

”I thought for sure he’d be dejected,” Konoha pondered aloud.

Kuroo simply hummed through his nose. He watched Bokuto’s back and a memory surfaced.

***

It was the end of their second year, and Kuroo and Bokuto had each just accepted their titles of captain starting next term. They met up for dinner to celebrate and had a grand old time trash talking each other and promising national victory for their respective teams. As they walked along the reservoir to the train station, they spotted a couple of kids bumping a volleyball back and forth. Kuroo snorted when one of the kids whined about how sore her arms were.

”Reminds me of Kenma,” Kuroo remarked.

”He’ll be Nekoma’s starting setter next year?”

”Most likely. It’s up to Coach Nekomata.”

”If a really awesome first year setter joins, he’ll have to fight for his spot.”

”If that happens, he might use that as an excuse to quit,” Kuroo predicted. He thought about what he just said then laughed, “But he wouldn’t actually do that. I would never let him hear the end of it if he quit at the first sign of a new challenger.”

Bokuto walked atop the low stone wall that lined the reservoir, arms outstretched for balance. Without a trace of shame or hesitancy, he declared, “I’m jealous of you.”

”What? Why?”

”You and Kenma really know each other.”

”Well, we’ve been neighbors for years now.”

”Yeah but,” Bokuto’s balance faltered, and he quickly hopped back onto the pavement beside Kuroo, “you really _know_ each other, you know? I like that. I want that.”

Over the many times that Kuroo played opposite Bokuto, he grew accustomed to his straightforward attitude and knack for making complicated things simple. Kuroo liked to think he knew his friend and rival well.

”You’re thinking about Akaashi?” Kuroo grinned.

”Yeah,” Bokuto confirmed, and Kuroo never heard Bokuto speak so softly before. “I want to know him. He’s gotten really good at cheering me up. I want to be able to do that for him, too.” 

Kuroo cocked an eyebrow. “If you want to make his life easier, why not just stop getting upset so easily?”

Bokuto craned his neck to focus his big eyes on Kuroo so quickly and so quizzically that Kuroo swore the guy must actually be part owl.

”How would hiding my feelings make things easier?”

Kuroo was shocked to find that he didn’t have an answer to that. Bokuto just kept walking, fingers locked behind his head and lazily tilting his shoulders back and forth.

”Akaashi would still know something’s wrong no matter how hard I try to hide it. Besides, bottling up my emotions makes my stomach hurt. I can’t always be happy, and I won’t always be sad, so that’s why it’s so important to have people who know me. Know me through every feeling. _That’s_ what makes life easier.”

Kuroo could only look on in disbelief at his friend, waxing wise on the waterway.

***

The memory faded, and Kuroo found himself standing next to Konoha and watching Bokuto’s back traverse across the gym. Kuroo heard Bokuto repeat, more to himself than to anyone else, “If Akaashi’s happy, that’s good.”

Complicated, simple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No explicit smut this chapter. Mentions of sex, toys, prostitution, definitely. And I absolutely love writing Kuroo.
> 
> Also, a new mention from Fukurōdani:  
> #3 - Sarukui Yamato, WS/OH (3rd year)
> 
> Mentions from Nekoma:  
> Coach - Nekomata Yasufumi  
> #1 - Kuroo Tetsurō, Captain/MB (3rd year)  
> #5 - Kenma Kozume, S (2nd year)  
> #7 - Inuoka Sō, MB/WS/OH (1st year)  
> #11 - Haiba Lev, MB (1st year)
> 
> (Inuoka is a puppy among cats and I love him.)


	5. Roles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A client buys Akaashi’s company for the weekend. At a quiet mountain cabin in winter, roles will be played and rules will be broken...
> 
> (Please, _oh please,_ see the end notes for chapter specific warnings.)

Akaashi‘s clients knew him as K-kun. It was a simple name that Sai picked out, clearly designed to confer anonymity for both Akaashi and the client. Akaashi didn’t mind the moniker. In fact, he preferred the barrier it put up between his worlds. When meeting a client, he was K-kun. It was the kind of role play Akaashi could get onboard with. Unfortunately, his clients sometimes took it as a challenge to press him for personal details.

”Are you really a high school student?”

Those were the first words out of his most recent client’s crooked smirk. Akaashi crossed the threshold of the cabin and surveyed the room. It was glamorous, spacious, and definitely a destination. It had that lingering scent of cleaning products and absolutely nothing else, signifying that this was a place of retreat, not a regular residence. K-kun was a part of that escapism; Sai reminded him of such in the car ride up the mountain. Sai also relayed the client’s request for a mischievous, flirty partner.

 _Roles on top of roles_ , Akaashi bemoaned inwardly. Outwardly, he flung his duffel bag carelessly to the ground and sauntered into the center of the foyer. He tucked his hair behind his ear and gave the client a coy smile.

”Of course. I’m full of youthful energy.”

The client chuckled and picked up Akaashi’s bag. He took a long, long look at the boy with an unreadable expression. 

His fist met Akaashi’s face.

Akaashi fell to the floor, blindsided. He clutched his cheekbone only to recoil when pain bloomed under his fingertips. The man’s feet came into view, and Akaashi blinked through the tears accumulating in his eyes against his will.

”If you’re going to be reckless with your belongings, you don’t deserve them. Stay on the ground where you belong, pet.”

Akaashi’s mind reeled. Didn’t this guy want him to act mischievous? Fuck that— _didn’t Sai explain the rules to this asshole?_

The man plopped on the couch and dumped out the contents of Akaashi’s bag. He separated out a few articles of interest: cat ears headband, leather collar with leash, and the cat tail plug. Then, he gracelessly shoved the rest of Akaashi’s things back into the duffel. He threw the accessories at Akaashi and snarled, “You’ll earn the rest back if you behave. Now strip and put those on.”

The man watched expectantly as Akaashi slowly propped himself up. Heart pumping too much blood into his fingertips, Akaashi fumbled to unbutton his shirt. He took a moment to assess the situation as quickly as possible.

His phone was in that duffel bag. Sai was the only one who knew where he was, and he wasn’t coming back until tomorrow night. K-kun didn’t have a safe word; that was all part of the purchase. His clients never did much damage, and Sai was usually nearby to remove the overly enthusiastic ones.

Akaashi was down to his boxers now, and he tarried at the waistband. This didn’t escape the man’s notice.

”Now, pet.”

Deep breath. Hard truth. He was on his own.

He grit his teeth, instantly regretting it as a wave of pain washed through his steadily swelling cheek. He removed his last piece of clothing and chanced an uncertain look at the man who merely stared back. He bent down to collect up the accessories. He secured the cat ears and fastened the collar around his neck. Although he buckled it loosely, he could still feel the disquieting pressure when he swallowed. Next, he clipped the leash to the D-ring of the collar. And lastly...

He picked up the butt plug and glanced at the man again. Cold, unwavering eyes glowered down at him. He gulped and felt the collar drag. The bitterest relief registered in his mind over the fact that he stretched himself out in Sai’s car earlier.

He stuck two fingers in his mouth and sucked, gathering as much spit as he could produce from his increasingly drying mouth. He dropped to his knees, leaned forward, and circled his entrance with his fingers. He prodded gingerly before dipping his middle finger in to the first knuckle. He exhaled slowly as he worked the finger in further, massaging his insides. By the time his second finger joined, his breathing became uneven. He splayed his fingers and bore down onto the digits. All the while, the client’s eyes never left K-kun’s rapidly heating face.

When he deemed himself as loose as he would get without any extra lube, he positioned the plug at his entrance. The man finally spoke.

”Turn around. Let me see you do it.”

 _At least this way, I don’t have to look at him directly._ Akaashi repositioned himself and arched his back to give the man a proper view of his ass. He reached back and held himself open, exposing his waiting hole. The man made a noise that Akaashi hoped denoted pleasure. He worked the plug in while straining to keep his ass spread wide. Once the plug was swallowed up, he turned to face the client again and felt the cat tail swing as he did.

The man had already removed his pants and was stroking himself languidly. K-kun, wary of making a wrong move, waited on all fours.

”Come here pet. I’ve got something for you to suck on.”

K-kun crawled forward, situating himself between the man’s legs. The man seized the leash and gave it a sharp jerk. As he choked in protest, the man gingerly ran a hand through his hair to stroke his ‘ears’.

”Are you a good kitty?”

”Yes—“ He was cut off when the man tugged on his hair.

”Kitties don’t talk.”

He balked at the man. _How was I supposed to know that?_ His previous attempt to meet expectations got him clocked in the head.

”Say meow.”

He inhaled deeply, collar expanding with the slight movement. _I’m on my own,_ he reminded himself. He was alone in a cabin in the mountains with an aggressive client. Now was not the time for pride or hang-ups. Now was the time for survival.

”M-meow.”

”Good pet,” the man lilted. The grip on his hair loosened but the hand stayed entwined in his locks, the other on the leash.

He turned his attention on the man’s half-hard penis. In full commitment to the role, K-kun leaned forward and kitten-licked the member. He hummed lowly as if purring and ran his tongue from base to tip and back down again. The man’s cock twitched and hardened. K-kun licked timidly, working his way around the growing erection. The man moaned when he dipped down to the balls. He flattened his tongue and gently suckled on the sensitive skin, all the while trying to ignore the cock resting against his forehead.

He moved back up and took the tip in his mouth. He swirled around the head and teased the slit. Precum oozed out and left a bitter taste on his tongue. The man seemed to enjoy his ministrations, so he kept going. He relaxed his throat and lowered himself onto the cock, all suction and saliva and the soft lining of his mouth. The man’s legs spread further, and a harsh hand seized the back of his head. That was all the warning he got before the man forced K-kun’s head down and bucked up at the same time. He managed to keep from gagging in spite of the shock—K-kun was practiced enough to know how to deep throat. He willed his muscles to relax and negotiated his body’s need for air. Down and relax, draw up and suck, take a quick breath, and back down again.

The repetition lulled him into a trance until finally the man’s bucking turned erratic. He increased the suction and pace, and the man panted heavily. He pulled the boy off his cock and breathlessly commanded him to open his mouth. Reluctantly, he obeyed. He sat with his knees tucked beneath him, pushing the butt plug uncomfortably deeper, and waited with his mouth agape. The man jerked himself a few times before directing his cock at K-kun, who fought against every instinctive fiber of his being that wanted to recoil.

The anticipation came to a head when semen suddenly spurted into his mouth. A stray strand landed on his cheek, and the man rubbed his flagging erection along K-kun’s lips as he slowly stroked himself.

”Drink your milk like a good kitty,” the man commanded.

Bitterly, he closed his mouth and swallowed. He tried not to dwell on how slimy his throat felt or the way the taste permeated his airway. The man reached forward and gathered the cum on his cheek onto his thumb. He brought the thumb to K-kun’s swollen lips, and the boy sucked it into his mouth. He looked up at the man through watery eyes as he cleaned off the digit. He lightly kissed the client’s thumb as it pulled away.

The man ran that same hand through K-kun’s hair and looked at his prize with a mocking gentleness. “Good pet,” he crooned.

The vise tightened.

***

It was well past midnight and K-kun wasn’t sure he was fully conscious anymore. They’d been at it for hours, and the client’s stamina was apparently endless.

They were on the balcony with K-kun pushed up against the railing. Between the heat lamps and the thorough pounding, the boy barely registered the cold.

K-kun bit his lip fiercely when the man brushed against his prostate. The motion was past the point of pleasurable and now only returned overwhelming stimulation. The man jerked on the leash, forcing the boy to arch backwards. He panted heavily into K-kun’s ear.

”Don’t hold back. I want to hear you scream. Let the whole mountain hear.”

”Ah! Ah! AH!” K-kun couldn’t help but wail as the man ruthlessly angled his hips to perfectly incite that one spot. He knees wobbled, his arms twinged, jolts spasmed up his spine. K-kun yowled into the night like a cat in heat, needy and wanton. The man growled and fucked into him harder.

”You love this, don’t you? Needy little bitch. You love having a nice, thick cock in your ass. You need this, huh? You need a master to put you in your place, make you cry and moan, show you what you really are. Gonna make you mine. Gonna buy you and keep you. Gonna come home and fuck you every night until your ass is red and sore. Gonna fill you up with my cum and make you beg for more. Oh yeah, just like that. Just like that you dirty whore.”

Filthy words on deaf ears, K-kun was beyond reason. He stopped hearing whistles blowing and shoes squeaking three orgasms ago. All that remained was whatever the man wrung out of him. He knew he’d wake up sore and ashamed tomorrow, but right now he could focus on nothing but primal sensation. _Chase that feeling, chase that feeling. Did he say he was gonna buy me? Doesn’t matter. The feeling is all that matters._

He came with a scream and sent what little he had left into the dark swath of grass below. The man growled one last time and shot his load deep inside the boy, painting his walls white. K-kun’s screams petered out into mewls as he fought to stay standing. Exhaustion decidedly won out and he collapsed to the floor, sliding off the man’s dick with a wet pop.

The man took a breath before carrying the boy to the master bedroom. He relished how small and helpless K-kun felt in his arms. He laid the boy out on the sheets and removed the collar. The cat ears had long been knocked off and the tail plug was strewn about the house somewhere. The man didn’t care about the pet play at the moment. All he could think about was K-kun’s plump lips and blooming hickeys and the delectable way his legs splayed out as cum leaked from his asshole.

The man cleaned him out as best he could with the boy still unconscious. He settled in next to the boy and ran a hand up his chest to toy with the sore bud of his left nipple. His pet mewed out a small protest in his sleep but showed no signs of waking. The man chuckled lowly and traced the boy’s lips with his thumb.

”You’re beautiful when you’re all fucked out, K-kun. I’m so glad you're mine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ch. 5 warnings: underage prostitution, violence, dubious consent/rape, sex toys
> 
> Akaashi’s in a bad spot, y’all.


	6. Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akaashi needs to get out of here. A waitress makes an unexpected discovery. Bokuto is definitely the kind of person to have a lengthy conversation with a telemarketer.
> 
> (See end notes for specific chapter warnings)

The cold light of a late winter morning streamed in through the window. Akaashi knew he must have woken up at some point, but the sleep in his eyes and the weight of his limbs dulled his consciousness. Memories from last night flashed behind heavy eyelids, and his stomach churned at the recollection. His whole body laid tacky upon sheets covered in dried sweat and other fluids. Akaashi rolled over with what little strength he had and took stock of his surroundings.

Bedroom, he was in a bedroom. He could smell bacon and eggs sizzling and hear the gentle clinking of cooking utensils somewhere in the house. The clock on the wall read 11:30. Sai wouldn’t pick him up for another 8 hours. He could hold out until then—or rather, he had to.

In rising to his feet, a jolt of pain shot through his body. He hissed and reached back to prod at his entrance carefully. When he pulled back, the rusty residue of dried blood peppered his fingertips. He needed to get out of here.

At that moment, the client walked in with a breakfast tray, a cup of coffee, and the soft smile of a doting lover.

”Oh, you’re awake. Good.”

He set the tray on the nightstand and held the cup in front of Akaashi. The boy stared at the man’s outstretched arm. He couldn’t help but recall how easily that same arm struck him just yesterday. His jaw ached persistently. Were they still playing? Was he allowed to speak?

”Take it,” the man commanded. Akaashi accepted the mug with both hands, not sure he could trust himself to hold it steady with only one. He meekly whispered a “thank you” while quickly glancing at the client’s face to gauge his mood: pleased.

The man took the opportunity to sit down on the bed next to Akaashi and gently twirl a finger in his hair. Akaashi tried to minimize his involuntary flinch, but the man noticed it anyway.

”I was pretty rough on you last night, huh? I’m sorry. It was all part of the play, and you did so good. Don’t worry, though. You’ll find that I’m actually quite nice when I want to be.”

He spoke in such a soothing tone, any outside observer might just believe him. Akaashi remained unconvinced but said nothing. He had to put up with this guy for a little longer and then he’d never have to see him again. Akaashi had some regulars, but Sai let him put his foot down when it came to overly aggressive or creepy clients. Sai said he never wanted Akaashi to feel unsafe. Akaashi couldn’t remember the last time he felt anything but.

”Eat up and take a shower. We’re gonna go for a walk.”

With that, the man got up and left the room. Akaashi wasn’t sure he could physically handle a walk or even stomach food right now. He nibbled on some dry toast before a wave of nausea forced him to put it down. He decided a shower sounded good right about now.

Akaashi carefully made his way into the adjoining bathroom and stumbled into the shower. Under different circumstances, he might’ve taken the time to be impressed by the skylight and lake foam tiling, the marbled counters and heated toilet seat, even the little glass jars of cotton balls and Q-tips and the many other amenities in the expansive bathroom. After all, an expensive place meant a rich client meant greater payday. But Akaashi couldn’t bring himself to care. He cranked up the shower pressure and temperature and let the water scald him. It didn’t feel good but that was what made it feel right.

***

Akaashi waited on the front porch, grateful to finally be wearing clothes again. He had on the same ensemble he wore yesterday along with his coat which he drew tight around his frame. The client squirreled away his other belongings somewhere in the roomy cabin, and Akaashi didn’t have the nerve to ask him about it. The sky was a bleak gray—no signs of snow—and an unforgiving chill passed through the air.

When the client stepped out of the house, Akaashi blanched at the collar and leash in his hands. _Un-fucking-believable._ Without a word, the man secured the leather binding around Akaashi’s neck and gave him a devilish wink when he latched on the leash.

”Let’s go for a walk, K-kun.”

They started down the dirt road toward a nearby lake, and Akaashi was increasingly aware of how isolated they were. They strolled by a few lakefront houses, presumably other timeshares. It didn’t seem like anyone was home. Any comfort Akaashi—who was fully tethered like a dog—got from the privacy was offset by his company. He felt the gravity of his situation, both in the constant throb of his lower back and in the knowledge that his phone and wallet drew further away with each step.

They circled the lake, frozen dirt crunching beneath their feet. The man, leash end still coiled around his hand, slipped his free arm around Akaashi’s waist. Akaashi tried to focus on the extra warmth the gesture provided rather than his impulse to push away.

”It’s nice here, huh?” The man remarked. Akaashi figured he was safe to verbally respond, so he returned a quiet “yeah”.

”It’s one of many places I’ve invested in. I’m in real estate, you see. I’ve got connections to some of the best locations and listings...”

Akaashi let the man drone on, trying to impress with his business acumen. He nodded along, accepted the man’s business card, and took a prolonged moment to exaggeratedly marvel over the embossed lettering and overall professionalism. He slipped it into his pocket and made a mental note to burn it later. This showboating wasn’t unusual for his clients. They wanted to brag and feel big and forget that they were buying Akaashi’s attention. It was all part of the transaction, and Akaashi had gotten pretty damn good at it.

However, his facade faltered when the man said, “Next week, we’ll go somewhere else.” Akaashi stopped in his tracks and couldn’t help the confusion coloring his face. The man stopped a second later and surveyed the boy.

”Didn’t I tell you? This weekend was an audition, and you did great.” A terrible, triumphant smile cracked along the man’s face as if he’d just granted Akaashi the moon.

”Wh-what?” Akaashi managed.

The man had the decency to look sympathetic and cooed, “I guess your manager didn’t tell you. I’ve been searching for a long-term partner for a while now. The others Sai sent me didn’t work out.” The man let that information hang in the air for a moment before he pressed on. “When I saw your videos, I just knew I had to try you. Sai told me that if I liked you—and I definitely do,” he said as he stepped forward and looped his arms around Akaashi’s waist, “then I could buy your contract.”

The man took in Akaashi’s dawning realization and grinned, “Isn’t it great? You won’t have to spend your nights with anyone else anymore. You won’t need to depend on your manager to arrange your hookups. You’ll be with me! And I’ll take care of you. You ever been to Italy? I’ve got a nice vineyard there. I bet you’ll love it—“

Akaashi shoved him right into the lake. He jerked forward, having forgotten momentarily about the leash. His knees hit the ground and he gagged. The man scrambled out, releasing the leash to wipe the water and mud out of his eyes.

”You little cunt!”

The man lunged, but Akaashi was already running. He took off down the road and into the woods, unsure of where he was going. He only knew he needed to get away. He could barely hear the man cursing and shouting over the roar in his own ears now. Adrenaline coursed through him. His vision narrowed. He tore his way through the brush. Feet sliding, lungs aching, heart pounding, all the while praying that he was in better shape than the monster pursuing him.

The leash whipped behind him as he took a sharp turn out of the tree line. He stood at the edge of a hillside overlooking a road and beyond that, a town. He slid down the slope, wearing a new hole in his already tattered coat, only to be abruptly stopped when the leash caught on an outstretched root.

He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. Panic invaded his senses and he forgot about the simple latch connecting the leash to the collar. All he knew was urgency and danger and fear, fear, fear.

A shadow towered above him on the slope now. The client seized Akaashi by the scruff of his coat and pulled him back into the woods.

”I’m sorry, I’m sorry, sorry sorry sorry,” Akaashi babbled, instinct taking over.

”Shut up!” The man barked. Akaashi lowered his voice but kept blubbering out apologies. The man threw him to the ground and delivered a swift kick to the ribs. Akaashi spat out all the air in his lungs and tried to scramble away, but the man straddled him. He pulled on the leash, forcing Akaashi’s head at an unforgiving angle.

”I was being _nice!_ ” The man emphasized with a backhand to Akaashi’s face. “I was gonna treat you right!” Another strike. “You want me to be mean? Fine!” Akaashi was openly weeping, his moans barely masked by the sound of traffic below. The man leaned down to spit venomous words in Akaashi’s ear, “I’ll hurt you, you little prick. I’ll beat the shit out of you and fuck you until you tear and bleed. I’ll chain you up and whip you raw and you’ll know just how bad I can be.”

Akaashi wasn’t speaking sense anymore, screaming and crying and rambling.

”Sorry, I’m sorry, please don’t hurt me, please I’m so sorry, I’ll do anything, please don’t hurt me...”

”Oh, now you’re sorry?” The man mocked. He shoved Akaashi onto his back and positioned himself further up his chest. He unbuckled his trousers and pulled out his dick, half hard from the adrenaline of the chase. He stroked himself and dropped the leash in favor of gripping the back of Akaashi’s head.

”Show me how sorry you are, whore.”

The man shoved his way down Akaashi’s throat at a brutal pace. Akaashi gagged, saliva dripping out the corners of his mouth. The angle was uncomfortable, and Akaashi’s neck ached with every thrust. The man held the boy’s head in place as his hips slammed forward. Deep, he went deep. Akaashi couldn’t breathe. The man stayed there with his balls resting on Akaashi’s chin, and panic surged once more in Akaashi when he didn’t pull out. He needed air, but one look at the man’s manic eyes and horrid snarl told him he wouldn’t get any.

_He’s gonna kill me._

Self-preservation kicked in and Akaashi bit down. Hard.

”Fuck!” The man screamed. He was heavy, but the pain threw him off-balance enough for Akaashi to wriggle out, clawing off the collar while he did. The man swung a leg at Akaashi’s head, but the boy caught his foot and tugged. The boot came loose, and Akaashi had a frenzied moment of forethought. He chucked it over the steep side of the cliff with the collar soon after. Akaashi rolled away and practically dove headfirst down the hillside. He didn’t spare a look back, too afraid to even try. He heard a car horn and swerving tires, but he was already gone, tumbling toward the town below.

It was a small town. Grocery store, post office, fishing supplies. Barely any occupants, so no one saw the frantic teenager covered in dirt and blood and bruises duck into an alleyway. He dashed behind a dumpster and pressed himself against the wall. His heart pounded so painfully fast that he could feel nothing else, but he strained to listen for footsteps over the sound of its beating. He held his breath and waited.

A minute passed. Then another. And another. It must’ve been fifteen minutes now, and his heart rate had calmed down somewhat. He swore he’d never complain about being exhausted after practice ever again. The thought of volleyball forced a hoarse laugh out of him. It belonged to a world he was so far away from now. He closed his eyes and tried to think.

The client probably wouldn’t try to chase him with one shoe missing. Maybe he went back to the cabin. Shit, all his stuff was still there, his phone, his student ID. He couldn’t go back there now. He needed to get out of here.

”Are you alright?”

Akaashi looked up to see a woman dressed in a grease-stained dining service uniform holding a garbage bag. Akaashi knew he must look like a wretched mess, but her concern showed through her initial shock.

”I need a phone.”

***

Akaashi stood in the corner of the diner’s kitchen, staring at the corded land line. He could feel the wary eyes of the waitress who found him, but she kept her distance to afford him some privacy. Only now, Akaashi realized, he didn’t know who to call. The police were not an option. It wouldn’t be hard for them to piece together his source of income. He went down the list of phone numbers he knew from memory. His parents—there was no way in hell he was calling them. Sai...Sai left him at the cabin with no way out. He sold him to that client without even saying anything about it. Akaashi would have to deal with that later, but right now he didn’t want to face Sai. That left one person, and Akaashi wasn’t sure he could face him either.

Bokuto picked up on the second ring.

”Hello?” Akaashi recalled the many times he warned Bokuto about telemarketers and phone scammers. And yet, it was just like Bokuto to pick up the phone regardless of who was calling. His tinny voice came over the line like a breath of fresh air.

”Bokuto-san,” Akaashi inhaled, hoping that Bokuto wouldn’t detect the weariness in his voice. No such luck.

”Akaashi? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

”I...I need...” Akaashi wasn’t sure what he needed. He didn’t want to ask anything of Bokuto. He didn’t want Bokuto to see him like this.

Bokuto didn’t hesitate. “Where are you?”

”I’m outside the city. In a small town in the mountains.”

”I’ll come get you.”

”No!” Akaashi interjected. “You don’t have to do that.” _What am I saying? Of course I need him to come get me. No money, no identification, not to mention that I’m not even sure where I am._

”I’ll take my parents’ car,” Bokuto supplied. His voice echoed differently, which told Akaashi that he was already out the door. “I’ll come get you.”

Akaashi exhaled. He wouldn’t change Bokuto’s mind now. He beckoned the waitress over and got the diner’s address from her. Bokuto took a minute to search it on his phone before he said, “Okay, I’ll be there right away!”

”Thanks,” Akaashi whispered then hung up. He elected to wait at a foldout table in the diner’s kitchen, and the waitress brought him some water. He thanked her profusely to which she simply returned a kind smile. She didn’t ask many questions, probably because she understood right away that he was hiding from someone. She spent her break chatting with Akaashi, boasting about her kids while he iced the worst of the bruises on his face. Her animated disposition as she relayed her daughter’s latest attempt to convince her to adopt a dog left him feeling lighter. She reminded him of Bokuto, the way she shined bright enough to banish his own darkness. By the time Bokuto pulled into the diner’s lot, Akaashi was halfway to feeling normal. He thanked her with a deep bow as he left.

”Akaashi!” Bokuto waved. His radiant smile faltered when he took in his friend’s raggedy appearance.

”Thank you for coming to get me, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi mumbled. He quickly got into the passenger seat, and Bokuto had no choice but to get in and drive.

Akaashi counted each of Bokuto’s side glances. Not that Bokuto was trying very hard to hide his concern. He was so antsy and anxious, Akaashi thought he might as well be waiting for a toss. Akaashi sighed. He was so, so tried.

”I’ll explain, just...not right now.”

That seemed to mollify Bokuto. Akaashi sunk into his seat and watched the scenery blur past him as they drove down the mountain. Without meaning to, he shut his eyes and let the rev of the engine and Bokuto’s soft humming lull him to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ch. 6 warnings: violence, threats of violence, rape
> 
> There’s a light at the end of the tunnel for Akaashi, folks. I promise.


	7. Strength

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Citrus has a way of lingering on the lips...
> 
> (See end notes for chapter specific warnings)

“...’Kaashi? Akaashi?”

Akaashi awoke to Bokuto’s gentle arm on his shoulder. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, ignoring the dull ache in his cheek bones. They were parked in the gated lot of an apartment complex. There was a courtyard complete with a stone pathway and a water feature that was drained for the winter. It was far too nice to be anywhere near Akaashi’s neighborhood.

”Is this your place?” Akaashi turned to Bokuto.

”Yeah, I didn’t know where you lived, so I thought I’d just bring you here.”

Bokuto got out of the car and had the passenger door opened before Akaashi could get it himself. They entered the building, and Akaashi noted the doorman in the lobby and the fob-operated elevator. As he followed behind Bokuto, trusting him to navigate the twists and turns of the hallways, he became acutely aware of how different their worlds were.

”Here we are!” Bokuto declared.

One long shower and a set of borrowed clothes later, Akaashi sat alone in Bokuto’s living room. He tucked his legs under the kotatsu and reveled in the life it brought back to his sore limbs. He could hear the thrum of a washing machine, presumably Akaashi’s mud-stained and sweat-drenched clothes. Bokuto’s shirt and sweat pants were a size to big for him, but there was something comforting in the way the arms of the t-shirt hung loosely on his shoulders. It reminded Akaashi of how strong Bokuto was.

Bokuto walked in with a bowl of mandarin oranges, one already unpeeled and held in his mouth. He set the bowl down on the table and pulled apart the orange, offering the other half to Akaashi, who accepted. They munched in silence, Bokuto’s eyes never leaving Akaashi and Akaashi desperately looking anywhere else. He settled for gazing out the window. November was already over, and Akaashi wished the cheerless sky would make up its mind already and start snowing.

Akaashi spoke first. “Your parents aren’t home?”

Bokuto replied with orange still in his mouth, “They went to visit my aunt for the weekend. They just texted me to say they’re extending their stay for a few days.”

Akaashi wasn’t sure what to say next, but Bokuto had no such issue.

”What happened?”

Akaashi kept his gaze out the window, trying to muster up the will to speak. He decided that Bokuto deserved answers, but he didn’t have to tell him _everything_.

”I was attacked.”

”By your partner?”

That pulled Akaashi’s attention back onto Bokuto. “By my what?”

Bokuto looked decently guilty for jumping to conclusions.

”Oh,” he mumbled, pressing his finger tips together. “I just thought...I saw you drive away with some guy yesterday.”

Akaashi sighed. This was not how he wanted the conversation to go. “I don’t have a partner,” he clarified. He wanted to steer the conversation away from any mention of Sai, so he added, “It was a mugger.”

Akaashi gauged Bokuto’s reaction out of the corner of his eye. Bokuto was still. He stopped eating to devote his full attention to staring at Akaashi, silently encouraging him to continue. Akaashi, however, didn’t want to divulge any more details, honest or otherwise.

So after the better half of a minute, Bokuto carefully asked, “Did you call the police?”

”No.” That one was easy.

”How come?”

”Don’t want to.” Technically true.

”Why not? They could let you know if they catch the guy or find your stuff—“

”It’s embarrassing!” Akaashi erupted, and he startled at the honest flavor of those words in his mouth. He lowered his voice to say, “I didn’t see it coming. And once it happened, I couldn’t do anything to stop it. It already happened. Talking about it more just digs it all up again.”

”So you’d rather not talk about it?”

Akaashi shrugged. “Keeps it all buried where it belongs.”

”And that’s a good thing?” Bokuto asked in genuine curiosity.

”Feels better that way.”

Bokuto looked pensive. Akaashi could tell that he was really considering Akaashi’s rationale rather than trying to figure out a way to contradict him. His expression cleared when he reached a conclusion.

”That sounds more like feeling nothing than feeling good.”

Akaashi gaped at Bokuto. _If feeling nothing keeps the disgusting, wretched, bad feelings at bay, isn’t that synonymous to feeling good?_ Akaashi couldn’t voice those words because even he recognized how foolish they sounded. It wasn’t until now that he realized how much he lived by them.

He shook his head, becoming all the more aware of how swollen the skin of his bruised cheek felt. “Even so, I don’t want to feel so weak and helpless anymore.”

At that, Bokuto perked up. “I’ve thought about that!” He exclaimed, proud of himself for finding something in Akaashi’s soul he could relate to. It was almost enough to make Akaashi smile.

”Weakness isn’t a bad thing. You can be strong while still being weak. There’s all kinds of ways to be strong! Kindness is a strength. Resolve takes strength. Restraint, also.” Bokuto rubbed a hand up the back of his head and turned bashful. “I’m not too good at that last one,” he admitted, quickly following it up with “But that’s why I rely on the people in my life! And I think,” Bokuto scooted around the kotatsu until his legs bumped into Akaashi’s before continuing, “It takes strength to ask for help, too.”

His voice softened like a child coaxing a scared rabbit out of its hole. Akaashi couldn’t decide what it sparked inside him. Relief? Contempt? Remorse? The sensations swirled within him and it left his head reeling and his gut seizing and Bokuto was so close and so warm and so large in his life and that scared him. Akaashi did the only thing he could think of.

Akaashi closed the gap and kissed him.

He pressed in with all his might, eyes shut. Bokuto’s lips parted in surprise, and Akaashi seized the opportunity. He darted his tongue along Bokuto’s lower lip before pushing it further in. The tip of his tongue danced along Bokuto’s as the kiss deepened.

 _This is right,_ Akaashi thought. _This is how it works. I’ve done this before._

But a hollowness in his heart told him that wasn’t true. For all the people he’d kissed and all the people who kissed him, he rarely initiated let alone with someone he liked. Someone he trusted. Someone who trusted him.

As the seconds passed, Akaashi became incredibly aware of the stiffness in Bokuto’s lips. He noted the apprehension with which Bokuto moved his tongue. It reminded him too much of the first time Sai kissed him. That kiss born of duress and discomfort, desire and fear.

Akaashi’s eyes opened to find Bokuto’s staring right back at him. He pulled back and absorbed Bokuto’s bewildered expression. Dread seeped into Akaashi’s bones as he wiped saliva from his lips with the back of his hand.

”You...you don’t want...” _Me,_ Akaashi’s brain supplied, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it. “You don’t want this?”

Bokuto blinked once, punishingly slowly.

”Do _you_ want this?” He asked. His tone was sincere, and that was what hurt the most. Akaashi’s mind went on high alert.

_Of course Bokuto would never think of kissing me. I’m the one pushing my feelings on to him. I’m the one who’s so fucked up that I can only react to a friend’s kindness by sexualizing it._

Akaashi bolted.

”Wait! Don’t go! AkaAAshi!” Bokuto chased after him, but Akaashi was already out the door, somehow managing to slip on his shoes while practically running.

Akaashi’s eyes watered as he tore his way through the apartment complex. He sprinted towards the side staircase, eyes fixed on the exit signs and pointedly ignoring Bokuto’s pleas echoing down the halls. He needed to get as far away from Bokuto as possible, not just because he exposed how pitiful he was. No, worse than that, he took advantage of someone. No, worse than _that_ , he took advantage of Bokuto.

They would never be able to undo that kiss; that was something he knew firsthand. Akaashi could apologize and try to make up for it, but it would never be the same. Knowing that, he’d rather run and hide in his own misery.

Akaashi was blinded with tears, and the unforgiving tightness in his chest strained his breathing, but his feet managed to steer him toward a major street that he recognized. Behind him, he heard Bokuto call out to him once more. Akaashi slipped into a crowded crosswalk as best he could. He maneuvered toward a busy subway entrance and filtered down with the herd. At the bottom of the staircase, he sidestepped and pressed himself against a shadowy wall. He watched Bokuto leap down the stairs and look about before taking off further into the crowd.

Akaashi couldn’t help but spare a fleeting moment of awe at his friend’s determination coupled with an overwhelming sense of exasperation at the slippers Bokuto had haphazardly put on before chasing after him. _His feet are going to freeze and he’ll catch a cold,_ Akaashi bemoaned. He capitalized on the moment to sprint back up the stairs and head for home.

***

It was a blustery afternoon, and the sun was starting to set. Dry gusts cracked the skin and kept most pedestrians looking down at their feet to preserve some body heat. Despite that, Akaashi still got the occasional odd look for his oversized clothes and lack of winter wear. Given the horror show of a weekend he’d had, Akaashi could hardly care.

It took him unbearably long to reach his apartment building, and it was just as underwhelming as when he last saw it. More so after seeing Bokuto’s place. Even so, Akaashi was glad that his apartment had a shitty lock he could force through with a hard slam of the shoulder.

Akaashi lived at the far end of the complex. On one side, he had an obnoxiously loud next door neighbor. On the other side, there was a small alcove for a water heater and fire extinguisher. It was from this alcove that a figure emerged just as Akaashi reached his door.

”Been waiting for you, Akaashi-kun.”

Menace permeated the air, causing Akaashi to freeze mid-step. Sai always had a knack for terror. He produced a familiar keyring and proceeded to unlock Akaashi’s door.

”Let’s talk,” Sai said as he threw open the door and motioned for Akaashi to enter. Uncertain, Akaashi obliged, and Sai shut the door behind them.

”Why do you have my keys?” Akaashi asked before he could think better of it.

Sai looked at him as though Akaashi just asked why the South Pole didn’t fall off the Earth. “‘Cause I got a very nasty call from someone who had all your stuff.”

”He hit me—“

”Let me make something clear,” Sai interrupted. He stalked towards Akaashi, using his larger frame to force the boy further into the apartment.

” _You_ are a _product_. I _sell_ you. _Maintain_ you. I connect you to buyers, and I keep the problematic ones away from you because _I_ know _your_ value. So when you go off and pull the kind of shit you pulled today? Your value drops.”

Sai was practically on top of him now, voice steadily rising. Akaashi had to remind himself to breathe. Sai was intimidating, but he could be reasoned with. Besides, Akaashi had a bone to pick with him.

”You were gonna sell me to him—“ Akaashi started before Sai’s booming voice cut him off.

”That’s what I fucking do!”

Akaashi’s back hit the wall. Sai slammed his fist right next to Akaashi’s head. _Not good, very not good._

”You think _that guy_ was bad? You don’t even know what’s out there! I had a client offer five times your usual rate to cut you up. Another wanted to strangle you. You wanna know how much this one guy offered to watch his dogs fuck you? _I_ decide what’s beneath you, _not you_.” Sai accentuated his words with a pointed glare centimeters from Akaashi’s face. “I decide your worth.”

”No, you don’t!”

Akaashi shoved as hard as he could, barely pushing Sai off balance. He quickly slipped past him and put the kitchen table between them. Wearing a mixture of incredulity and rage, Sai stalked up to the table. Akaashi heard the words Bokuto spoke before he royally screwed up their friendship resound in his ears and he was certain: Sai may be bigger and scarier and crueler, but that didn’t make him stronger. Akaashi was emboldened.

”You don’t decide that! No one does. I don’t want this anymore. I don’t need you telling me where to go and what to do and who to fuck. I don’t,” Akaashi gulped for air, his eyes prickled for what felt like the hundredth time today, but no tears accumulated. “I don’t need you.”

Silence. Unflinching silence. Every part of his miserable life, every bit of tension and fear and rage spilled out on the kitchen table. Akaashi had no room left to store them.

Sai finally spoke, muted and malicious, like a carpet sprinkled with glass shards. “You don’t need me? Okay. I’ll cut you loose.”

Akaashi swallowed dryly as he watched Sai reach into his pocket and toss a handful of items onto the table. His phone, wallet, and keys.

”Just know, that this,” Sai gestured to the apartment’s peeling wallpaper and water-stained ceiling, “is the best you could do with my help.”

Sai gave Akaashi a long, belittling look then scoffed, “you’ll be dead in a month.”

Akaashi felt one last surge of quiet fury. “Get the fuck out of my apartment.”

”Fine,” Sai threw up his hands in mock surrender. He kept his composure—he always did. As he stepped into the hallway, he turned back and casually remarked, “Oh yeah, this was on your door when I got here.”

He reached into his other pocket and tossed a final object at Akaashi. He watched Akaashi pale with recognition, and a sickening grin spread across his face. He twisted the knife in one last time.

”On second thought, you’ll be dead in a week.”

Akaashi didn’t even register Sai’s parting words. He was too focused on the collar in his hands, stained with dirt and blood and the lingering scent of fear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ch. 7 warnings: _briefly_ mentioned knife play, asphyxiation, and bestiality (like, one sentence each), violent behavior
> 
> This was an interesting chapter to write. It’s like a wave of fluff collided with a wave of angst, and from that, chapter 7 emerged.


	8. To Know Someone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bokuto does some investigative work while Konoha challenges his memory. Technology is a blessing and a curse.
> 
> (See end notes for specific chapter warnings)

_Sunday, Dec. 2nd, 19:36_  
_From: Bokuto Kōtarō_  
_To: Shirofuku Yukie, Suzumeda Kaori, Washio Tatsuki, +12 others_

_Bokuto: URGENT!!! If you hear from Akaashi let me know!!! I need to talk to him!!!_

Konoha glimpsed the notification of a message during dinner, earning him a stern look from his father. He apologized without much remorse and checked the first message. He sighed inwardly at Bokuto’s lack of control when it came to exclamation points. _Actually_ , Konoha mused, _that‘s probably accurate to his current excitement and volume level_. A series of pings rung out as others replied to the mass text, much to the Konoha family’s annoyance. As he read the messages, his face morphed from curious to confused to downright worried.

_Komi: He’s not answering his phone?_

_Yukie: Didn’t he go away for the weekend? Maybe he just doesn’t want to be bothered._

_Bokuto: He doesn’t have his phone!_

_Komi: RIP how do you even manage without a phone nowadays_

_Bokuto: He ran out and I tried to chase after him but I lost him and now I don’t know where he is!!_

_Kuroo: Hold on...you and Akaashi went away for the weekend? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) Also why am I in this chat?_

_Bokuto: Emotional support! And no we didn’t go away together! But I saw him today_

_Washio: He probably just went home. Did you try his place?_

_Bokuto: I don’t know his address! Does anyone?_

_Washio: No, I don’t._

_Yukie: No_

_Kuroo: Nope sorry_

_Komi: Yikes, how do none of us know that?_

_Kuroo: I’m pretty sure he lives alone. Does that count for anything?_

_Yukie: Bokuto, what happened? Did you two get in a fight? Did you say something stupid again?_

_Bokuto: No!_  
_Bokuto: It’s complicated_  
_Bokuto: I’d explain it if I could but I want to talk to Akaashi first_  
_Bokuto: Please just if any of you hear from him_

Konoha furrowed his brow. The last few messages were unlike Bokuto. They were restrained, calculated, guarded. Something substantially serious must’ve happened between Bokuto and Akaashi to get him to act like this. And why didn’t Akaashi have his phone?

Konoha excused himself from the table, ignoring his father’s protest and retreating to his room. He shut the door and heard his mother’s muffled voice suggest, “he’s probably messaging _someone special_ , so let’s leave him be.” He cringed at the thought of dealing with that assumption later and opened up a new message.

_Sunday, Dec. 2nd, 19:40_  
_From: Konoha Akinori_  
_To: Bokuto Kōtarō_

_Konoha: Is Akaashi okay?_

_Bokuto: Have you heard from him?_

_Konoha: No, but won’t we see him tomorrow at school?_

_Bokuto: I can’t wait that long._

That was troubling. He recalled what he saw not two nights ago in the parking garage and the gnawing queasiness that sloshed in the pit of his stomach since then. He typed out a message, erased it, and retyped it several times before he settled on being direct. Even if he was completely misinterpreting and way overstepping his bounds, he chose to lean into his gut feeling.

_Konoha: Does this have something to do with that guy he drove away with?_

Ellipses appeared and disappeared again and again as Bokuto agonized over his answer. Finally, after a minute of deliberation, Konoha’s phone pinged.

_Bokuto: I’m not sure._

Not a second later, his phone pinged again.

_Bokuto: What do you know about him?_

Konoha grit his teeth. Akaashi wasn’t the type of person to share his private life, and Bokuto was known to blow things out of proportion. Maybe this had nothing to do with Akaashi’s potential partner, and maybe Konoha should stick to his usual practice of minding his own damn business. Then again, Akaashi wasn’t the type of person to go AWOL, and Bokuto’s last few messages were eerily well-punctuated. Maybe the situation called for Konoha to act a little out of character too. And if Akaashi was in trouble, he wanted to help. He started typing and let the momentum carry him through.

_Konoha: I saw them together at a McDonald’s near my place Friday night. He didn’t tell me his name but he said he was a family friend. He’s older than us, probably late 20s/early 30s? He wanted me to join them but Akaashi said they had to leave. He was pretty abrupt about it..like he really wanted to get out of there. And then Akaashi forgot his coat in the restaurant so I followed them out to the parking lot and I saw them kiss in the car. But it was a weird atmosphere. Like the guy looked directly at me for the whole kiss. Almost like he was, I don’t know, staking a claim? It was pretty creepy. And I’m pretty sure Akaashi was crying but I’m not sure why._

Konoha hit send before he could think twice. He read over his message, and slowly his memory of that night took on a new shape, abandoning post hoc rationalizing in favor of gut instinct.

_Panic_. Akaashi’s eyes were panicked when Konoha first called his name. _Tension._ There was tension in Akaashi’s shoulders when the guy spoke to Konoha. _Doubt_. A creeping kind of doubt stemming from that seemingly innocuous smile.

Rational thought told Konoha that Akaashi simply didn’t want his school life and romantic life to mix. Nothing to worry about there. But instinct was a deeper force. It was what told animals to run from predators and children to run from monsters. Instinct told a different story: Akaashi was protecting him.

***

Bokuto read Konoha’s text over and over. The information was disquieting to say the least, but it sparked an epiphany.

”His coat!” Bokuto shouted into his empty apartment. He volleyed over the couch and into the laundry room where he hung Akaashi’s coat after an unsuccessful attempt to wash it. Remnants of dirt and grime stained the fabric, especially on the back. The garment looked like it was dragged through the mud, and Bokuto grimaced at the thought of Akaashi wearing it while that happened.

He rummaged through the pockets, looking for some way to figure out Akaashi’s address. All he found was a small piece of paper. Bokuto read the gold embossed print: _Takamura M—, OO Real Estate_

Bokuto squinted in confusion, eyelids drooped to the same narrow level. Maybe Akaashi was moving? A quick search on the internet told Bokuto that not only did this real estate company specialize in listings that were ridiculously expensive, even relative to Tokyo standards, but they were mostly remote vacation spots outside in the city. So why would Akaashi have this? Was Takamura-san the man Akaashi drove off with yesterday?

Bokuto found an article on the aforementioned man detailing some awards ceremony last year. _He must be pretty high up in the company_ , Bokuto mused as he studied a picture of the very man accepting an award. Bokuto sent the picture to Konoha.

_Bokuto: Is this him?_

_Konoha: ?_  
_Konoha: No_  
_Konoha: The guy I saw Akaashi with was taller and a lot younger._

Bokuto reviewed the picture. Takamura was considerably older, probably old enough to be his dad. He kept scrolling through search returns, willing some sort of revelation. Despite the lack of clear clues, Bokuto’s mind felt sharper than ever—like when he saw the path for a direct kill on the court. He wanted to help Akaashi, and to do that he needed to find him first.

Bokuto ran through his options. He already contacted his team as well as a few other mutual acquaintances from the other Tokyo schools. He gave them vague details in exchange for a promise that they’d keep an eye out for Akaashi. For all they knew, Akaashi had simply lost his phone and Bokuto was just overreacting. Akaashi would probably forgive him for that much.

The school would have Akaashi’s address on file, but if he contacted Coach Yamiji he would have to give a better explanation. Akaashi didn’t want the police involved, but he was out there right now with no phone, no wallet, no keys, no coat! Did he have a place to stay for the night?

Bokuto leaned back in his desk chair and rubbed his tired eyes. Short of roaming the streets and banging on doors, he wouldn’t find Akaashi tonight. Maybe he _was_ overreacting. Maybe Akaashi actually lived with his family or had a roommate to come home to. Maybe he’d show up to practice tomorrow and be perfectly fine. Maybe he only ran out on a whim and not because of some greater threat. Maybe he was just upset over how Bokuto reacted to their kiss.

Bokuto sat back up with a jolt. “Kiss!” Bokuto blurted into the silent room. “I kissed Akaashi,” he marveled in a quieter voice. “Or, he kissed me. Did I kiss back? I think I did...” Bokuto’s wonder dampened his sharp clarity from earlier. He sat, turning back and forth in his swivel chair, tracing fingertips over his lower lip, trying to access that feeling again. He nearly forgot about that life changing event.

Except...between how beat up Akaashi looked and the way his shoulders sagged when he talked about weakness, it seemed like Akaashi had plenty of life changing events today. And Bokuto came along with his proverbial straws of “takes strength to ask for help” and “all kinds of ways to be strong” and “do _you_ want this” and broke the camel’s back. Why did he even say that last one? As if Akaashi would kiss him without wanting to. Akaashi wasn’t that type of person.

Bokuto thought about Akaashi. He thought about how Akaashi knew how to set the ball just the way he liked it, how to pull him out of his dejected mode, how to catch his jacket in perfect anticipation of where he’d throw it. Akaashi knew all these intimate details about Bokuto, about all his teammates.

But then Bokuto thought about how defeated Akaashi sounded on the phone just this morning, and how deeply he slept on the car ride as if he hadn’t slept in years. Bokuto looked back at his computer, at the business card, and finally at the tattered coat in his arms.

Maybe he didn’t really know Akaashi at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing explicit this chapter. Plenty of Bokuto panic.


	9. Take

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akaashi makes a call, Bokuto shouts into the void, and both are left to wonder: What does it mean to take?
> 
> (See end notes for chapter specific warnings)

_I need to get out of here._

Akaashi was so damned tired of that train of thought as it chugged on by for the umpteenth time today. More and more it became apparent that Akaashi’s life has devolved into a constant cycle of escapism with progressively worse destinations. The part of his brain that processed fear was too taxed for him to outwardly freak out about the collar. If what Sai said was true, then the client knew where he lived. Perhaps he was even watching him right now. _He wouldn’t actually try to kill me, would he?_

Akaashi was surprised to find that no shivers ran down his spine at the thought. He’d exhausted his reserves of energy and urgency running from this client, from Bokuto, from Sai.

Except he didn’t run from Sai. He didn’t shrivel up and bend to his will this time. Hell, he told him to fuck off right out of his life!

Akaashi felt a surge in his chest. He would think it was giddiness, but it felt more like ants crawling up his throat.

_Can’t feel happy, can’t feel scared. What the hell is wrong with me?_

_Like feeling nothing..._

That marked the second time tonight Bokuto’s words resounded in his psyche. Akaashi let out a long exhale he hadn’t realized he was holding and was suddenly very aware that he was wearing someone else’s clothes. Maybe he should do something about this fucked up heart of his.

_Sounds like a lot of work._

A jagged sigh worked its way out of his mouth as he reoriented himself to the present situation. Whatever he was going to do, he needed to be alive to do it, and he had a better chance of surviving the night if he were anywhere but his apartment. Akaashi plugged his dead phone in to charge and gauged his situation. It was almost 8pm on a school night. If he stayed with a teammate, he’d have to give an explanation for the spontaneous sleepover, not to mention the bruise on his face. The only other neighbors in the apartment complex he knew was the couple next door, and he was pretty sure they disliked him ever since he billed them for the hole they punched through his wall. He could stay at a hotel, but even a cheap one would put a dent in his budget. He could find a partner willing to pay for a night’s lodgings...

His phone came alive and dinged with a slew of messages. Akaashi paled as he scrolled through each text and email from various team members.

_Washio: Are you okay? Bokuto’s asking about you._

_Komi: Where u at?_

_Yukie: Bokuto’s an idiot. What did he do this time?_

Some were followed by “Oh wait you don’t have your phone” which only confirmed his suspicions that Bokuto told _many_ people some part of the story. He found some solace in that no one mentioned any specifics, but his temples still pulsed with an oncoming stress headache. His chances at keeping this nightmare from creeping further into his life were getting slimmer with each newly informed person.

Akaashi grabbed a backpack and started packing essentials for a few days away from here, including his uniform and practice gear. He had to go to school tomorrow if only to assuage people’s concerns. He’d show up and act perfectly normal. Convince them all that he’d been in an accident, and Bokuto was just worried about him. Akaashi desperately hoped Bokuto didn’t use the word “mugged” in any of his messages to others. That would be much harder to dismiss.

Akaashi opened his phone once more, scrolled past the plethora of still unread notifications, and found a certain contact. He didn’t keep the contact info of many clients personally; he usually let Sai handle that. But this particular guy was gentle and nervous and _young_ during their initial hook up. It might’ve been his first time, a thought that left a sour tang in Akaashi’s mouth. When the man skittishly handed over a scrap of paper with his number and a nigh inaudible “let’s meet up again”, Akaashi took pity on him. _Never thought I’d be in a position to pity anyone anymore_ , Akaashi brooded.

Akaashi hit the call button and pinched the bridge of his nose. He wasn’t sure if he wanted the man to answer or not. The line rang for half a minute, and Akaashi was about to hang up when the receiver clicked.

”H-hello?”

”Onii-san, it’s K-kun.” Akaashi remembered well what this particular client preferred.

”K-!” The man squeaked. He took a moment to return his voice to normal and then continued, “How unusual for you to call.”

”What are you doing tonight? I’d like to see you if you’re able,” Akaashi lilted with ease.

”Ah, well, I’d like that too, but um, you see, I have to be in the office early tomorrow, and—“

Akaashi didn’t hesitate. “I know, I’m sorry. Truth is, I didn’t know who else to call. I’m in a bit of a bind, and I was hoping you could help comfort me. Just for tonight. I’d be _very_ grateful, _Onii-san_.” _Let him feel like a big man, swooping in to save you. That’s what he likes_.

Akaashi heard the man audibly gulp across the line. _Gotcha_.

”I’ll book a hotel room and send you the address,” he complied.

”Oh thank you! You’re a lifesaver, Onii-san!”

Akaashi spouted praise for a few more seconds before hanging up. His reflection stared up from his darkened phone screen, and Akaashi tried not to dwell on how easily he manipulated that innocent man.

Innocent? He still paid for sex. He still asked Akaashi to call him Onii-san because he secretly pined for the neighbor’s kid he used to tutor in college prep. Akaashi looked at his own reflection and considered how young his face was, how innocent that waitress must’ve thought he looked that morning. Maybe innocence was just an illusion. If the client wanted to use Akaashi for a fantasy, then Akaashi could use him too.

***

”K-kun, you really don’t have to—“

”But I want to thank you properly.”

”Yes, but, I’m doing this as a favor. I wanted to help you.”

”I want to help you too, Onii-san. You seem awfully tense.”

”I—ahh...”

”Feels good?”

”Mhm...”

”Me too. Just lay back, Onii-san. I’ll take care of you.”

***

Akaashi tuned out the soft snores of the client beside him. Just ten minutes ago, Akaashi finished riding the guy, gushing about how big he was and constantly asking “Is this good?” as if he was some nervous virgin who was “accidentally erotic”. Akaashi hoped the client never admitted his feelings to the actual kid he pined for, who was probably far away at some university now. The client would be so disappointed to realize that his idealized kid brother type didn’t exist. _Then again, maybe it’d serve him right to have his dream shattered right in front of him_. Akaashi startled at the vindictiveness of his own thoughts.

He stared at the ceiling, listened to the sounds of traffic filter in from the street below, and he wondered: _Since when did I start thinking like that?_ Bitter and cruel, full of cynicism and loathing for himself and for others. How long had such things nestled in his heart? Akaashi thought about the first time he met Sai. Did it all start then or was it a part of him before that? A part of him since the beginning? When was the last time he truly felt at peace?

Shapes on the ceiling took the form of late night musings. He thought about the firsts that were wrested away from him. First kiss, first time, first morning after. He thought about all the times he pretended to have a first to give away for the benefit of a client’s fantasy. He thought about the firsts he must have represented for many of those same clients. Always taking, always taken from. That was how the world worked.

The looming shadows of the night were temporarily chased away by the faint light of a notification on his phone. He really didn’t want to read a text from another classmate he’d have to lie to, but he picked the phone up anyway. The fog of sleep vanished from his eyes when he saw who it was from.

 _Monday, Dec. 3rd, 00:34_  
_From: Bokuto Kōtarō_  
_To: Akaashi Keiji_  


_Bokuto: I know you probably won’t see this. Unless you took my advice and went to the police and by some miracle they did find your stuff. So I guess I’m kinda shouting into the void. But..._

_Bokuto: I’m sorry for how I reacted. I shouldn’t be telling you what to do and I shouldn’t talk so much when I don’t know what you’re going through. But for what it’s worth, I‘m glad you called me. I’m glad I could come get you. I consider myself lucky to be able to be there for you, especially after all the times you’ve been there for me. So I guess what I’m trying to say is..._

_Bokuto: I want to know you. I want to be a part of your life. And I know that sounds selfish but being selfish isn’t always a bad thing because I also WANT your life to be full of happiness and friends who can be there for you when you’re not okay._

_Bokuto: And I do know this about you already, you work really hard to make other people happy. So if not for yourself, then for me: don’t let last night be the last time we talk._

How could Bokuto be so sure? How could he say these things so easily? How could he know him so well without knowing anything at all?

Akaashi set the phone down a stared into space, never blinking. At least, it didn’t seem like he was blinking. It was hard to tell in the dark. And as Akaashi wondered whether his eyes were functional and if he’d ever see again, new images of old memories paraded before him.

The first time he set a ball, the first time he saw Bokuto play, the first time he stood on a national stage in black and white and gold. The first time he was filled with that feeling—the one Bokuto tried to explain to Tsukishima not half a year ago—and the people he shared that feeling with. A volleyball match may be a zero sum game in terms of winning or losing, but that feeling...

 _Bokuto doesn’t understand the dangers of being known, of being taken from. And if he knows me, then he’ll know that fear, that shame. It’s take and be taken from._ Akaashi repeated that final mantra in his head over and over, straining to stamp out the telltale fluttering in his chest, the sign of a blooming expectation, the peril of hope.

_Take and be taken from._

_Take and be taken from._

_Take and_ give.

Akaashi blinked, and he knew he blinked because the room wasn’t engulfed in darkness anymore. The soft blue light of his cellphone screen drew him in like a lighthouse guiding a ship to shore.

_Bokuto: And I did want to. I DO want to._

Give. Akaashi marveled at the word, unearthed from a long hibernation in the back of his brain. He’d been taken from for so long, he forgot what it meant to give freely and cheerfully. He forgot that others were capable of that too.

He clutched his phone to his chest, and he listened to the quiet moments of the night, and he wondered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ch. 9 warnings: underage prostitution, Onii-san kink, non-explicit sex scene


	10. Give

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just because they have questions doesn’t mean he’s ready to answer. Akaashi and Bokuto face a new challenge: What does it mean to give?
> 
> (See end notes for chapter specific warnings)

Akaashi was already gone by the time the client awoke. He left a note of trite gratitude and dipped without further ceremony. A practical part of him urged to stay in good favor with the client to secure future lodging, but he decided against it. With Bokuto’s messages on his mind, he strode towards the train station, moving with a lighter gait than he had in a while. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do, but he refused to rely on clients or Sai any longer. He’ll burn those bridges and move forward and...and maybe that means he’ll have to leave Fukurōdani.

Akaashi’s step faltered. He struggled to imagine a life without volleyball, without his friends, without Bokuto—the whole reason he fought tooth and nail for a spot at the table. He laughed inwardly at how ridiculous his rationale sounded. Did staying at one school really warrant so much self-sacrifice?

He gripped the phone within his pocket and thought, _Maybe it doesn’t always have to be_ self _-sacrifice._

***

Akaashi stalked onto campus, footsteps silent on frozen ground. He halted at the sight of a person crouching outside the gym doors, huddled over to conserve heat. Akaashi would recognize the boy even without the frosted tips poking out from under the edge of his beanie. Bokuto perked up.

”Akaaaashi!” Bokuto jumped to his feet but made no further movement.

”Bokuto-san.”

The two might as well be ice sculptures for how still they stood opposite each other. The cold bite of air sharpened Akaashi’s senses as he took in Bokuto’s condition: red cheeks, shaky footing, runny nose.

Akaashi couldn’t help himself. “How long have you been out here? You’re going to get pneumonia,” he scolded.

Bokuto didn’t blink. “I’m okay. What about you? Is that warm enough?”

Bokuto eyed Akaashi’s jacket. The sleeves stopped just short of his wrists, connoting how much he grew in the two years he owned it. Ill-fit at it was, the jacket was still the heaviest article of clothing Akaashi had at his apartment.

”Let’s get inside. Then we’ll both be warmer,” Akaashi evaded.

He pulled out his keyring and selected the gym door set, relieved to have something to focus on that wasn’t Bokuto’s unwavering gaze.

”Your keys!” Bokuto shouted. His voice resounded through the motionless air and caused Akaashi to nearly drop his keyring. At Akaashi’s startled look, Bokuto explained, “I thought you lost them.”

”Ah,” Akaashi fumbled for a response. He could lie; it was easy to lie in winter, what with his already flushed face, watery eyes, and short breath. _But don’t I want to stop lying to Bokuto?_ Still, he also didn’t want to get into the details of how he got his stuff back—especially _who_ brought them back. Before he could think twice, Akaashi said, “I have them now.”

Bokuto seemed perturbed by the noncommittal response, but by then Akaashi was already inside the gym. Akaashi soaked in the yellow lights, insulated air, and scent of lacquered wood. The court reawakened his senses and emboldened him to speak.

”Bokuto-san,” Akaashi began, not yet willing to face his teammate, “I have to know. Did you tell the others anything?”

”Oh, um,” Bokuto spluttered. “I didn’t think you’d be able to go home after you left yesterday—‘cause, you know, keys—and I thought maybe you went to someone else’s place. So I messaged people that you didn’t have your phone, and I needed to find you.” Bokuto turned sheepish as he continued, “I may have worried the whole team—But! I didn’t say anything specific because, well, because I thought you wouldn’t want me to...”

Bokuto trailed off and fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. Akaashi rarely saw him stumble over his words, and the realization that Bokuto‘s behavior changed because of Akaashi incited a roiling guilt in his gut. He hastily changed the subject by pulling out a plastic bag out of his backpack. He thrusted it into Bokuto’s chest and said, “Thank you for loaning me these.”

Bokuto wordlessly accepted the bag, through which he could see the yellow and blue hues of the shirt and pants Akaashi borrowed yesterday. Bokuto forgot all about the clothes. They weren’t as important to him as the person who wore them, the person who ran away in them.

”No problem,” Bokuto murmured in awe of the care with which Akaashi folded the items and tied the bag’s handles into a neat bow. Akaashi was a mindful person, and that made Bokuto smile in spite of himself. “That reminds me,” Bokuto added, “I took your coat to the dry cleaners this morning. I thought I should let a professional handle it ‘cause I don’t know how to clean wool. We can go pick it up after practice today.”

”You didn’t have to do that.”

”I wanted to.”

 _Giving. Bokuto is giving,_ Akaashi reminded himself.

”Then...thanks.”

Sculptures once more; they stood still, a scene of two boys trying to remember how to have a conversation. Then, a voice shattered the ice.

”Bokuto’s here before us?” Komi chirped as he stepped into the gym. Akaashi spotted several other teammates arriving through the swinging doors. Morning practice was upon them.

”What’s next? A deadly snow storm?” Washio joked, strolling in next.

”I’m glad to see you're both alive,” Yukie grinned at Akaashi and Bokuto. She ambled in with Kaori not far behind. The players were all surprised to see their team managers for morning practice. Kaori simply shrugged off their shock and said, “We decided to take a break from cram studies today.”

Soon, the entire team was present a full 15 minutes before official practice start time. _Unheard of._ Akaashi was certain they all received Bokuto’s message, and undoubtedly they all saw the prominent bruise discoloring the left side of his face. The third years politely kept from staring, but Anahori and Onaga struggled. Akaashi reasoned that they all were properly concerned but tactfully waited on his invitation. He started the morning hoping he could bluff his way past their worries, but the idea of deceiving his teammates seemed less appealing and even less probable. Besides, giving was easier when it was for them. Akaashi cleared his throat.

”Excuse me, everyone? I have something to say.”

Akaashi was not one for theatrics, but he wanted to streamline the process by addressing everyone in the gym at once. With eyes on him, he mustered the willpower to see it through.

”You might have heard that I didn’t have my phone yesterday, but I have it now. So that’s fine.”

There were some nods. That bit of information was a mundane comfort to most of the team. Bokuto, on the other hand, froze. Akaashi put that on the back burner and pushed forward.

”You may have noticed my face, and now you probably want some answers. Well, here’s the truth...the truth is...”

Akaashi paused. Would he lie? Would he tell the whole story? He wasn’t even sure himself.

”The truth is that something happened, and I don’t want to talk about it.”

Akaashi’s own eyes widened at his declaration. Even if it wasn’t a full account, it was still accurate to his feelings. It was honest. _He_ was honest.

And the team—his friends—understood.

”Okay,” Sarukui agreed after a moment of consideration, and Akaashi gawked.

”You don’t owe us an explanation,” Washio backed up without hesitation.

Yukie chimed in, “Like I said earlier, I’m just glad your alive and here.”

”You don’t have to say anything you don’t want to.”

”Thank you for talking to us.”

”Yeah, what they said. And, if you ever need anything...”

Kind words, warm sentiment, one after the other. Konoha studied him intently, but he nodded along with the rest of the team. Akaashi wasn’t sure if he fully believed them. After all, they didn’t know the entire truth and therefore couldn’t appreciate just how much Akaashi kept from them. And yet, as Akaashi looked over his friends—his family—he realized that somewhere, on some intangible plane residing in his chest, there was a pressure that loosened by a single notch.

***

Morning prep set into motion, and for the first time in a long time, Akaashi didn’t have to do anything. Onaga and Anahori strung up the net. Washio retrieved the ball cart. Yukie filled up the water bottles. Kaori pulled out practice jerseys.

Bokuto, on the other hand, remained at Akaashi’s side. He was uncharacteristically silent during Akaashi’s soapbox moment, but now he slung an arm around Akaashi’s shoulder. The movement bore greater hesitancy than ever before, but it grounded Akaashi nonetheless.

”Looks like they’ve got things covered here, ‘kaashi. We should go change.”

The club room was not a large space. More often than not, players tripped over each other in their efforts to store their bags and don their uniforms. The chaos furthered whenever the third years decided to play a game of five-star-whoever’s-not-paying-attention.

Today, though, the club room was quiet. It was only Bokuto and Akaashi sharing the space while the others set up for the morning. They stood on opposite ends of the room, going through the motions in silent concentration. Bokuto pulled his kneepad halfway up his shin, halted, and sighed.

”I’m sorry,” he stated, simple and clear, yet it baffled Akaashi profusely.

”What are _you_ sorry for?” Akaashi questioned, shriller than intended.

”I shouldn’t have been so...” Bokuto made an indecipherable hand gesture. When Akaashi merely tilted his head in response, Bokuto tried again. “I was pushy. Yesterday. I’m sorry. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

Akaashi, now fully dressed for practice, had nothing to divert his attention away from his ace. Hearing the sentiment aloud was far different from reading it in a midnight text that Bokuto never expected him to receive. He almost believed it. Almost. It settled somewhere inside him, but not exactly on his heart—just to the side of it maybe—for the vise in his chest was still there, and a voice in his head told him that Bokuto was too giving for his own good.

”I’m the one who’s sorry.” Akaashi’s voice came out practically inaudible, but Bokuto shot up immediately at his words.

”What? Aghaaashi! You don’t have anything to be sorry for!” His voice lowered as he moved toward his setter. “I reacted poorly.”

”No, Bokuto—you don’t understand. I took advantage of your kindness. Please I—“

”What are you talking about?”

”I saw your message.” Bokuto stopped in his tracks, and Akaashi pressed on, “I know you said you wanted to know me, but you don’t know the hell that invites into your life. You don’t know what it’s like to give more than you ever should have given, and I don’t want to be the one who takes that from you.”

Akaashi watched Bokuto’s eyes widen and his mouth open to protest, but he was full of momentum now.

”I shouldn’t have called you. I shouldn’t have kissed you—“

”I’m glad you called. I _liked_ the kiss! I liked kissing _you_! I...”

Bokuto’s arms were wrapped around Akaashi before either realized it. Akaashi’s body stiffened on instinct, panicking at the unexpected touch. Yet Bokuto, with his face mashed in Akaashi’s hair and his kneepad gradually slipping down his leg, held on tight.

Bokuto didn’t see the world in terms of finite interactions. He knew his team backed him up, and he knew that he scored points for his team. But it wasn’t a give and take to him; one would still happen without the other. That mindset allowed him to play, train, and live wholeheartedly. Still, he knew that not everyone saw things the way he did. Many didn’t have the luxury.

There was so much he wanted to say to Akaashi, but he practiced restraint. Akaashi was different. He was his own person with his own outlooks and his own needs, and even if Bokuto didn’t understand all of what that entailed, he respected it. He meant what he said in his message: he didn’t just want to know Akaashi—he wanted Akaashi to be happy, too. And if the person Bokuto depended on most needed to hear that he was permitted to take, deserving of a space to breathe in, to be in, then Bokuto decided: _If not for you, then for me._

He would give—selfishly, generously, _recklessly_ —he would give.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ch. 10 warnings: nothing explicit this chapter. Some club room confessions.


	11. Something Greater

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Kuroo family sends their regards from the Caribbean while Tetsurō freezes in Tokyo, but the winter isn't so bad when there are friends around every corner.
> 
> (See end notes for specific chapter warnings)

There’s a pet shop in Shibuya that specializes in high-grade, top-of-the-line cat necessities. The food alone costs three times the usual going price and was only carried by this particular franchise. Only the fanciest of felines demanded it, and Kuroo was currently cat-sitting one such monstrosity.

Kuroo stepped out of the pet store hefting four bags full of wet food cans. As inconvenient as it was to travel so far for overpriced cat chow, he knew the wrath of Momo-chan the hellcat would be much worse. He could put up with the uppity Ragdoll for a month. Kuroo readjusted his grip on the bags and rounded the corner towards the station, nearly smacking right into—

“Bokuto?”

Bokuto startled away from the wall he was leaning against. For a split second, pensiveness lingered on Bokuto’s face before giving way to recognition. Kuroo couldn’t help but wonder what occupied Bokuto’s thoughts so completely. Luckily, the answer to his question stepped out of the dry cleaners right next them.

The last time Kuroo saw Akaashi was at their practice game, and his constitution had not improved. Though he appeared calm as he clutched a woolen gray mass in his hands, the white of his knuckles and the intensity in his eyes told a different story. And of course there was the purpling splotch marking his entire cheek. Akaashi, too, startled upon seeing Kuroo.

“Kuroo-san,” Akaashi gasped. “What are you doing here?”

“Yo,” Kuroo drawled as he took in the scene. He decided there was a dire need for humor here. He lifted a bag in response and explained, “My cousins took the whole extended family on a cruise and left me with their cat, Momo-chan. She’s a hungry, furry menace, and she hates me.”

Bokuto barked out a mirthless laugh, and Akaashi nodded solemnly, still gripping the fabric. Kuroo’s eyes skated between the two. He recalled Bokuto’s frantic texts from the night prior, and though Kuroo was relieved to see them in contact again, the disquieting atmosphere between them was unprecedented. He asked, “So you got your phone back, Akaashi-kun?”

Kuroo watched the blood flow up to Bokuto’s ears in time with the rigidity shooting up Akaashi’s spine. Oh how the curiosity was killing him, but Kuroo bit his tongue and waited for a reply. His experience at the last summer training camp taught him to be more careful with his tendency to provoke.

“Y-yeah,” Akaashi supplied with no follow up. _This is going well,_ Kuroo snarked to himself. The three of them usually conversed with ease, so this stilted dialogue was suffocating. Fortunately, after three seconds of an unbearable lull, Bokuto perked up.

“Hang on,” Bokuto processed. “Your whole family went on vacation? You’re home alone?”

“Yup. I’m on my own for the rest of the month.” Then Kuroo added for good measure, “They do a trip like this every few years, but it never aligns with my schedule.”

Bokuto sharply turned towards Akaashi, and gestured to Kuroo with a tilt of his head and myriad hand motions. Bokuto wasn’t known for his subtlety, and Akaashi openly sighed at his behavior.

“I can’t ask that of him,” Akaashi muttered. The words left his mouth like the lines of a bad stage actor, lifeless from being repeated a hundred times before now. Kuroo recognized the intimacy of this conversation, and he didn’t want to intrude. However, as there wasn’t much privacy to be gained on a shopping district sidewalk, he stuck to pretending not to listen.

“But,” Bokuto urgently whispered, “he’d do it! I know he would!”

“Bokuto-san, please—“ Akaashi buried his gaze into the coat in his hands, and Bokuto shut up immediately. Kuroo was struck by the singular sensation of crossing into a mirror dimension, one where Akaashi was the dejected one and Bokuto was excessively accommodating. Kuroo called his reality into question while the pair argued in front of him; he considered their discussion, their tension, the bruise on Akaashi’s face, the pleading in Bokuto’s tone. Kuroo took a shot in the dark.

“Do you need a place to stay?”

Their aside ceased, and Akaashi sighed once more. He faced his body towards Kuroo, but he didn’t lift his head, preferring instead to stare at the bags of cat food.

“I told Bokuto this on our way here, but I can’t go home right now because of...reasons. At least for a while. But I don’t know for how long, and I don’t want to impose—“

“You can stay with me.”

The words were out of Kuroo’s mouth before he knew it. Surprised as he was, it felt right. Natural, instinctive. And Kuroo would be lying if he said that the way Bokuto and Akaashi’s jaws dropped just now wasn’t pretty freaking funny.

“I really don’t mind. My parents and grandparents travel a lot, so even though we have a big house, it’s usually just me,” Kuroo explained. A thought occurred to him. “But wouldn’t you rather stay with Bokuto? I mean, his place is closer to Fukurōdani.”

Their mouths were closed now, but they blanched in tandem—which was pretty funny as well. _They’re such a pair,_ Kuroo mused. He wanted to poke fun aloud, but he elected to reign it in. Bokuto and Akaashi proceeded to stammer out broken sentences on top of one another.

“Well, um, I was going to suggest that…”

“I, erm, I don’t know if that’s exactly the best idea…”

Kuroo’s eyebrow shot up to his hairline, not that anyone could tell from under his bed head. He had no way of knowing what went through their heads. He had no way of knowing that after their hug in the club room, Bokuto told Akaashi how good a kisser he was, and Akaashi snickered. And Bokuto reassured him “It was true!” and gushed about how nice it was to kiss him, to have him be the first person he ever kissed. And Akaashi was quiet, and Bokuto was too.

There was no way of knowing the depth behind Akaashi’s words when he confided in Bokuto that he kissed other people before, done a lot more with other people before. And Bokuto was quiet, and Akaashi was too.

There was no way Kuroo would know the whole of their conversation. But the thing was, Kuroo was not stupid. He recognized two friends flirting with the prospect of something greater when he saw it. He understood the excitement and uncertainty that came with daring to look further. He knew that something like that required a lot of small steps and terrible mistakes, false starts and fumbled words, private moments, shared stories, growth and change and consistency and reliance and above all, time.

And damn if it wasn’t also fun to watch them be _so awkward_.

Kuroo lowered his eyebrow and cracked a smile instead. “Ah, forget what I said. You’re welcome to stay with me as long as you need.”

Akaashi let out a deep breath, deeper than Kuroo thought possible. He finally looked up from the raggedy coat and flashed the small, subdued smile that he was known for. His knuckles relaxed, and Kuroo finally ventured to ask, “What are you two doing here anyway?”

Bokuto started to say “Picking up some dry cleaning” just as Akaashi dumped the grey lump into a nearby trash can. Kuroo and Bokuto wore matching expressions of surprise, and Akaashi returned their look with a shrug.

“The cleaners couldn’t get the stains out. They didn’t charge for it, but also there were too many holes to have mended. I’m better off getting a new coat altogether.”

The explanation was simple, sensible, and true. But there was something in the way he said it that resonated with Kuroo. Something in the way his shoulders loosened with the shrug. Something in how the tension in Akaashi’s frame dissipated when the haggard coat hit the bottom of the trash bin. And whatever that something was, it made Kuroo smile, and Bokuto too.

And the three of them stood there on that street corner, grinning like foolhardy teenagers, which is exactly what they were.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing explicit this chapter. I would call this mostly fluff and a smidge of angst? It's a shorter chapter this time, but something big is on the way...


	12. Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boys in the house. Unsolicited messages. Overdue conversations. Buckle in, friends.
> 
> (See end notes for chapter specific warnings)

“Thanks again for doing this,” Akaashi uttered for the fiftieth time as the trio trekked past another row of neat houses and manicured lawns.

Kuroo met his gratitude with a good-humored wave. “No problem,” he reassured. “It’s nice to have the company for a change.“

After their serendipitous meeting outside the cleaners, the three boys set their course for the Kuroo household to help Akaashi settle in. Gates and fences and neighborhood watch signs told the tale of a well-regulated suburb—a far cry from Akaashi’s apartment complex, where his neighbors used that hole they punched through the wall to hide their cocaine.

“I didn’t know you lived alone so often,” Akaashi remarked when they reached their destination.

“Well, Kenma comes over whenever he wants.”

Kuroo unlocked the front door. As soon as they stepped inside, they were greeted with the sight of Kenma playing _Retro City Rampage_ on the living room couch with a purring cat in his lap.

“Like right now, apparently,” Kuroo hummed.

“How did—“ Akaashi was cut off.

“I have a key. Kuroo has one for my place too. It’s easier than knocking on the door every time,” Kenma clarified over the pixelated sounds of fiery explosions.

“Kenma lives next door,” Kuroo added in response to Akaashi’s look of perplexity.

At Kuroo’s request and without pausing his run, Kenma guided Akaashi to the guest room at the end of the hall. Bokuto lingered in the entryway, shifting his weight between his feet and said, “Seriously Kuroo, thanks for doing this.”

“You’re the one who suggested it first.”

“Yeah, but I was surprised how willing you were,” Bokuto admitted.

Kuroo thought for a moment. He couldn’t recall the last time he impromptu hosted so many people, but he didn’t mind. In fact, he was delighted. Besides, one look at Akaashi told Kuroo that the kid needed a break, and he was more than happy to provide. Hell, Kuroo actually found himself grateful for Momo-chan’s presence too, even if she did hiss at him whenever he got too close. If it weren’t for her and her ridiculous food preferences, who knows where Akaashi would be right now.

Kuroo replied, “You’re not the only one who cares about him.”

Bokuto blinked a few times to process the information, then exclaimed, “Oh! Um, does, does that mean—does that mean that you—“

At the sight of Bokuto’s flailing hands and rapidly reddening face, Kuroo doubled over in laughter. He recovered enough to shake his head at Bokuto and sigh, “Oh you poor disaster owl baby.” Kuroo flitted into the kitchen to start dinner and left Bokuto to sputter hopelessly. As he pulled out a pot, eager to cook for more than himself, he heard Bokuto’s deflated attempt at a retort drift in from the living room.

“They’re called owlets…”

After dinner, the four boys eased into the quiet comfort of an early evening. Kenma finished his homework in a rush and started up another round on his PSP; Kuroo pursed his lips as he poured over his lecture notes; Bokuto solo practiced volleyball in the backyard, waiting for Akaashi to make good on his promise to help him with English after he was done with his own work.

Akaashi missed homework. More accurately, he missed having the time to do homework. Grammar exercises, systems of equations, history reports—Akaashi thrived. Lately, his dedication to school took a backseat to his need to make ends meet, but, if only for tonight, he was free to be a student once more. The shared space was a welcomed retreat from his lonely apartment where the lease was up in a month and he wouldn’t be able to renew without an advance payment and the owner already didn’t like him and—

Momo-chan fully sprawled on top of Akaashi’s book and derailed his train of thought. He absently ran a hand over her back and felt her vibrate in contentment. Kuroo called the cat a menace, but Akaashi knew she just wanted attention on her own terms. His phone buzzed with an incoming call, a poor imitation of the cat’s purring. Akaashi checked the caller ID and forgot to breathe.

His parents. It wasn’t Thursday; they weren’t supposed to talk yet. His hand left Momo-chan’s fur and hovered over the phone. Should he pick up? Why were they calling? Akaashi wasn’t sure he could lie to them right now. So much happened since their last conversation, and he wanted so badly to step away from it for one night. Time made the decision for him, and the call went to voicemail.

His breath returned, but not for long. With his hand still outstretched above the phone, a message came in from an unknown contact. Trepidation filled his veins, and Akaashi became all too aware of Kenma’s critical eye piercing through the cheery 8-bit music of his game. In a panicked attempt to feign normalcy, he seized his phone and opened the message.

 _Monday, Dec. 3rd, 20:17_  
_From: Unknown_  
_To: Akaashi Keiji_

 _Unknown: Sup K-kun._  
_Unknown: Heard your manager dropped you._  
_Unknown: Wanna see something interesting?_

A picture popped in next. It was a screenshot of a text conversation with blacked out contact names that read: _U selling K-kun’s info? How much for his name and address?_

Before Akaashi had time to digest the photo, another message from the unknown contact materialized.

 _Unknown: People want to know all about you Akaashi-kun and I know ALL about you. Got a whole mob waiting to fuck you. No one’s gonna save you…_  
_Unknown: I’ll be seeing you soon._

If the call from his parents stopped his breathing, this series of messages actively ripped the air from his lungs. _The client. He knows where I live. He had my ID. He knows my name. He knows my school. He could’ve made a copy of my keys!_ Sirens rang in Akaashi’s head. He felt the choke of the collar, smelled the soil of a frozen mountainside, tasted the endless stream of pleas falling from his lips—and just above the maddening cacophony of fear, he heard the faintest thrum of an engine starting up outside. It would be completely innocuous if not for the timing. Akaashi mustered all his strength and sanity and woodenly paced towards the kitchen window. As casually as he could, he peeked out in time to glimpse taillights rounding the corner at the end of the street

_I’ll be seeing you soon…_

_No one’s gonna save you…_

_You’ll be dead in a week._

Back in the living room, Akaashi all but collapsed on the couch and raced through his options. What options? He had no choice. There was only one person who knew his relationship with the client—only one person who could do anything about this—and Akaashi told him to fuck off less than 24 hours ago. He pulled up Sai’s message window in numb panic, prepared to grovel and beg. Prepared to do whatever it took to keep him and his friends safe. He could do this. He could make this sacrifice. Whatever Sai wanted, he would give. No matter what, he would give for them—

A hand appeared in his line of sight and gently lowered the phone from his face. Akaashi jerked his head up and met Kenma’s stolid gaze. They stayed locked in silence for a moment before Kenma mumbled, “Kuroo, give us some privacy.”

Kuroo looked up from his notes, pencil smushed against his lower lip, and tilted his head in question. He scanned over Akaashi’s trembling hands and vacant expression before directing his attention back to Kenma. Kuroo got up with a stretch. “Yeah sure, okay,” he drawled. “I‘ll go see how Bokuto’s doing.”

Kuroo left the room with Momo-chan biting at his heels, and Kenma heard him mutter with faux exasperation down the hallway, “Kick me out of the room, who cares? I’m just the asshole who lives here.”

Kenma rolled his eyes and waited until he heard the muffled bumps of a volleyball rally before he sat down beside Akaashi. At Akaashi’s clear reluctance to look at Kenma let alone talk to him, Kenma decided to speak first.

“What’s wrong?”

Akaashi opened and shut his mouth in a series of false starts, so Kenma pushed forward.

“You’re obviously in some kind of trouble, otherwise you wouldn’t be here,” Kenma deduced. “You don’t have to tell me, but I hope you know you can trust me.”

Akaashi couldn’t process the words. He could barely comprehend the physical space he was in. Couch, he was on a couch, and there was a nigh undetectable dip in the cushion where Kenma sat. It told him how slight Kenma was, and Akaashi couldn’t help but picture how easily the client could hurt him, break him. He pressed his fingers to his temples to banish the image. Trust? Kenma mentioned trust, but he could not possibly conceive the danger that would put him in. None of them could. They didn’t belong to this damned world. They, like any sane people, should turn and run at the sight of it—at the sight of him.

Kenma was still speaking, and Akaashi struggled to interpret the muffled sounds.

“I know we don’t talk a lot. We rarely see each other except during training camps and games, but I consider you a friend. I want to help you, Akaashi.”

Akaashi only heard garbled noise as he stared into space. Even if he was just being paranoid and the client didn’t know where he was, he couldn’t risk his friends’ safety any longer. It was nice to pretend for an evening, but he was naive. It was time to run again. Oh, but he was so tired of running and Kenma kept talking and staring and waiting and being so giving— _they were all so giving._

“Is this because of K-kun?”

Akaashi’s hearing cut out, but he understood with brutal clarity.

He tried.

He tried so damn hard.

For years he watched as that wretched life slowly creeped and consumed until he was left with a single pocket of normalcy to breathe in. He strained so hard to keep the barrier intact, never mind what others saw. At least they never knew, not really. But he couldn’t do it anymore, not when the ordinary life railed against the barrier, too. He couldn’t hear, couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe or think. All the light and air were sucked into the vacuum of his chest. It was all over now. There was nothing left.

Kenma appeared, kneeling in front of Akaashi and placing a hand on each shoulder. “It’s okay,” he intoned, studying Akaashi’s face intently. “Akaashi, it’s okay. You’re here. You’re right here. It’s okay…”

Bit by bit, Akaashi’s senses returned. Though Kenma’s arms weren’t as strong as Bokuto’s, they never wavered. Kenma continued his low mantra, calling Akaashi back, and gradually he remembered what and where “here” was: a home in a world of cats and volleyball and homework and friends. The barrier may have crumbled, the normalcy may have vanished, but the person in front of him was still here.

Tethered, Akaashi ventured out a throaty “How…?”

Kenma tilted his head and spoke softly. “I’m sorry. I should’ve handled that better. I’m sure that’s not how you wanted to broach the subject.”

 _Understatement,_ Akaashi rasped internally. Kenma said, “There’s this person who posts creepy comments on my channel and sends me DMs with dick pics and porn links and stuff like that.” He dropped it all as casual exposition, and that kicked Akaashi’s protective instincts into gear.

“Kenma, that’s serious.”

Kenma returned an incredulous look and said, “We’re worrying about _you_ right now, okay?”

Akaashi was speechless. He never experienced such confrontation from Kenma before. Kenma continued, “I blocked them on every site and haven’t heard from them since. But the last thing they sent me was a screenshot from a video, and I thought it looked like you. So I did some digging and found your website. I wasn’t going to say anything. It’s your life. But you seem to be up against something bad now, and I figured it had to do with that.”

Kenma sturdied his hands on Akaashi’s shoulders and adopted a new tone. It was a tone of maturity and empathy, of someone who knew firsthand the fear of being seen. “Akaashi, I’m telling you this because I want you to know: if you don’t want help, that’s fine. But if you don’t ask for help because you think you’ll be judged? That I or anyone else who cares about you would ever judge you? Then you’re dumber than I thought.”

Akaashi reeled. _Am I relieved? Indignant? Ashamed?_ He couldn’t tell. This wasn’t part of the plan—but of course none of Akaashi’s plans were getting off the ground lately. He took a big risk today with what little he revealed to his teammates. Even staying at Kuroo’s required more information than he wanted to divulge. But now he was exposed like a bug under a microscope, pinned by the weight of shit circumstances and bad luck. He wanted to curl in on himself in a last ditch effort to escape.

Except he couldn’t. Because Kenma was still here with arms perched on his shoulders and eyes staring directly into Akaashi’s, waiting on his response with a neutral expression. Akaashi blinked a few times to make sure he was interpreting the world correctly. Kenma was offering his help. More than that, he was offering help as an informed party. He knew better than anyone right now what it meant to help to Akaashi, and he wasn’t running away.

Akaashi slowly removed Kenma’s hands from his shoulders and held them in his own. He knew Kenma didn’t usually look people in the eye let alone initiate physical contact, but there was no reluctance about him now. Akaashi closed his eyes and considered this kind of touch, one not predicated on sex. It wasn’t a touch he received often. Even the hug from Bokuto—which was pleasant and warm and kind—was still different from this.

_No one’s gonna save you?_

Bullshit.

Akaashi opened his eyes and spoke with certainty. “Go get Bokuto and Kuroo. I have something to tell you all.”

***

Akaashi paced for a solid minute as the others waited patiently. Sweat collected on Bokuto’s brow, and whether that was from his body readjusting to being inside or because Momo-chan melted across his lap or because of the strained atmosphere of the room, Akaashi couldn’t tell. He decided to take Kenma’s cue and worry more about himself at the moment. When his foot met the far wall for the twelfth time, Akaashi found his opening line.

“I need to tell you all something, and I hate it. I hate that I have to tell anyone,” Akaashi started, but Kuroo interrupted.

“Then don’t.”

All eyes in the room landed on Kuroo, who shrugged at the attention.

“Or do,” he continued. “Or tell us in part. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

Akaashi didn’t know what to say, but Kenma had no such issue as he followed with, “Whatever it is, we’ll listen.” He paused, then thoughtfully tacked on, “We won’t run away.”

It was Bokuto’s turn to speak, and Akaashi held his breath. Bokuto was the last person Akaashi ever thought he’d tell. He was simple and honest and never looked at Akaashi with any hint of unease, and Akaashi didn’t want to change that. It wasn’t until this moment that Akaashi realized he hoped to someday meet Bokuto again when he wasn’t so fucked up. But the situation was beyond his control now, and Akaashi needed help even if that meant never getting the ending he wanted. He watched as Bokuto absently ran his fingers through Momo-chan’s fur, deep in the throes of his own thoughts. He seemed to reach a conclusion within himself and met Akaashi’s eyes.

“If you do tell us, Akaashi, it’ll be your choice.”

Terrible circumstances aside, talking now was still a choice. _My choice._ Akaashi wondered if the three of them planned this uncannily perfect combination of words to disarm him. For one hateful moment, panic flared at the thought that his friends conspired to manipulate their way to the truth, but Akaashi reminded himself that they weren’t Sai. Words weren’t cheap tools they used to get whatever they wanted. What they said was simply what they believed.

And for once, in spite of all the times his friends tried to convince him—or perhaps because of all the times—Akaashi believed them. He opened his mouth and made his choice.

***

Kuroo tented his fingers in front of his mouth, processing the information. Kenma, the least confounded of the three listeners, scrutinized the anonymous messages on Akaashi’s phone. And Bokuto...Akaashi avoided looking at Bokuto all together.

He kept it clinical. The minima of words for the maximum effect. He gave surface level details when it came his shit show of a weekend, and he didn’t even mention Sai by name. He focused on conveying the issue at hand: he slighted a client, and now that client was threatening him.

“You heard a car drive away as soon as you got this last message?” Kenma asked. At Akaashi’s nod, he suggested, “We should see if anyone got a look at the driver. Could just be a coincidence.”

“So police involvement is out,” Kuroo pondered aloud. “But maybe there’s another way to get this guy to back off. Some other incriminating evidence that doesn’t involve you?”

Akaashi recalled the client’s offhanded mention of the “others” Sai sent him, and he tasted bile. “I guess I could find out,” Akaashi murmured darkly. “But that would involve me talking to someone I’d rather not see again.” His displeasure was palpable; the group moved on.

“Threatening you is a pretty stupid move on his part,” Kenma reasoned from his spot on the couch. “You said he’s some wealthy real estate guy, right? He has a lot to lose, and yet he’s leaving behind a trail of illicit harassment. Although I guess we don’t have undeniable proof to link him to these.”

“What if we pretend we do,” Bokuto whispered from his corner of the room. It was the first thing he said since Akaashi laid out his story, and all three boys waited for him to elaborate. “I mean, we could get him to back off with a threat of our own. Like Kenma said, he has a lot to lose—“

“No.” Akaashi was firm though he dared not look at Bokuto. “I don’t want any of you going near him.”

The air in the room, already heavy with confession and discomfort, groaned under the added layer of awareness: of the finality in Akaashi’s words, of the fear in his voice, and of the awful, awful bruise on his face.

They ended the night with the promise to reconvene tomorrow. Akaashi would stay home from school and keep the blinds drawn. Between Kuroo’s alarm system and the ever-nosy house spouses of the neighborhood, Akaashi felt reasonably secure. Bokuto offered to stay with him, but Akaashi insisted he go to school if for nothing else than to be there for the team. And if Akaashi’s ears tinted pink at the prospect of Bokuto and he alone in a house together, no one said a word.

Bokuto departed with a lengthy hug and a quiet “Thank you for telling me”, and Kuroo walked him out. The two captains stepped into the frigid night. Bokuto kept close examination of his own feet while Kuroo kept close examination of Bokuto. He waited until they were a distance from the house before speaking.

“Bokuto. Don’t.”

Bokuto was surprised, clearly not from confusion but from being found out. “What do you mean?” He feigned, but Kuroo was not fooled.

“You’re thinking of confronting that guy. Don’t.”

“What other choice is there?” Bokuto argued.

“Akaashi’s choice!” Kuroo shot back as resolutely as he could what with his voice quivering in the cold. “He told us not to, and we have to respect that.” He surveyed Bokuto’s wrinkled nose and worried forehead and sighed. “Look, it’s not like we could even find him. Akaashi didn’t give us a name or anything. Just come by tomorrow, and we’ll figure something out.”

Bokuto’s expression cleared somewhat, but the righteous fury still burned. Kuroo supposed that was the best he could hope for. He considered the boy before him, a friend who less than a year ago wore an uninhibited smile as he fantasized about knowing Akaashi better. Kuroo was sure this was never how Bokuto expected that to happen. And from the knowledge they gained tonight, he became all the more aware that there were many things they didn’t know and perhaps would never know. They had to come to terms with that and agree to help however they could.

He relayed as much to Bokuto, who accepted the counsel wordlessly. Kuroo took Bokuto’s silence as resignation, but he didn’t know what Bokuto knew.

He didn’t know what Akaashi sounded like when he called Bokuto from the diner. He didn’t know how fast Bokuto booked it on the highway to go get him. He didn’t know how long Bokuto spent wandering the streets, shouting Akaashi’s name, praying for his safety, wishing he would come home. And Kuroo certainly didn’t know—nor did Akaashi, nor Kenma, nor anyone else for that matter—about the business card burning a hole in Bokuto’s wallet and the half-baked plan forming in his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ch. 12 warnings: harassment, cyberstalking, threats of rape
> 
> Also, I forgot to mention in previous chapters, but this story takes place in 2012.


	13. What He Fights For

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akaashi gets a new coat, Konoha gets a migraine, and Takamura gets more than he bargained for.

Two scarves, three layers, fuzzy socks with matching gloves, and still Konoha was freezing his ass off as he trudged his way up the hill. There were only two good things about weather so cold: the chance of a snow day (but today’s dry air wasn’t promising) and the instant warmth of the gym.

Of course, the latter only happened when the gym doors were unlocked.

Konoha tugged at the handle twice before shoving his hand back into his pocket. It was unusual for him to be the first one, especially ever since Akaashi became the keeper of the keys. Akaashi...

Doubt still lingered. Konoha replayed events over and over in his head, agonizing over what he should’ve done differently. If he left the McDonald’s with Akaashi instead of leaving him alone with that guy, would Akaashi have cried that night? If he stopped Akaashi from driving away after the practice match, would Akaashi still be sporting that nasty bruise? Akaashi wanted space, and he deserved as much, but what kind of senpai was Konoha if he let Akaashi do all the protecting?

Approaching footfalls interrupted Konoha’s inner turmoil. Bokuto jogged up to the gym door, all red face and sunken eyes. He looked as if he didn’t get any sleep last night.

”Bokuto—“ Konoha began.

”I’m here!” Bokuto’s proximity certainly didn’t warrant the shout that bursted from his mouth. “I’m here,” he tried again, quieter. He rummaged in his bag and pulled out the gym door keys. Konoha was astonished.

”Why do you have those?”

”Ah! Um, Akaashi’s not coming to school today.”

Bokuto missed the lock several times, hands shaking uncontrollably. A week ago, Konoha might have dismissed Bokuto’s mishaps as typical distracted behavior, but too much happened since then. _He isn’t just distracted,_ Konoha observed, _He’s distraught_.

Bokuto succeeded on the fifth try and barreled through the doors, metal slamming against the wall. _Definitely distraught._

”Bokuto,” Konoha treaded lightly, “is everything okay?“

Bokuto flashed wild, pleading eyes at him, and for a millisecond, Konoha was frightened. Bokuto tended to wear his emotions openly and unapologetically, and right now they spouted forth to no end. His entire being screamed with misery and rage and helplessness, and Konoha had the absurd image of Bokuto starring in a hospital drama, worrying in the ER waiting room as his only child underwent surgery. But, just as Konoha knew the difference between TV and real life, he also knew exactly who Bokuto worried for.

”Is Akaashi okay?”

Bokuto let out a shaky, wet exhale and averted his gaze. He dropped his bag and collided his back against the wall with a force great enough the rattle the doors. He dug the heels of his palms into his eyes in an effort to massage out the frustration and weariness while Konoha stared on in shock. Silence settled in, save for the buzz of the lights and their unsteady breathing as they defrosted.

Konoha looked around the empty gym where they held countless practices and games and meetings. He couldn’t fathom all the times Akaashi was the first to arrive and the last to leave, always turning down Konoha’s offer to get him out of Bokuto’s incessant practicing. His absence now threw the whole gym off-kilter.

Konoha sighed. “I keep thinking that I should’ve done something,” he murmured into the quiet gym. Bokuto didn’t acknowledge his statement, but Konoha was simply thinking aloud anyway. “I know it’s up to Akaashi to talk to someone, but still. I wish there was some way I could help.”

Bokuto lowered his hands and stared into the quiet space. His face projected calm, but his eyes betrayed fervor. In a slow, practiced motion, he pulled a card from his pocket and studied it intently. Konoha instinctively held his breath when Bokuto fixed him with a startlingly calculated gaze and said, “Maybe there is.”

***

Akaashi stood in front of Kuroo’s closet, staring absently at a row of clothing. He ignored another call from his parents this morning, and that left him in a daze as he considered a royal blue three-button coat. Kuroo poked his head in the door with a toothbrush hanging out of his mouth and chimed, “How’s it going?”

Akaashi blinked his way back to the present and hesitated to respond. He lifted the sleeve of the coat and asked, “Are you sure it’s okay for me to use one of these?”

Kuroo grinned around the brush and said, “Yeah, of course. That one’s too small for me anyway. I grew since last winter.” Akaashi refrained from pointing out that Kuroo added only half a centimeter to his height over the past season. He lifted the coat off its hanger, and Kuroo returned to the bathroom. The heavy fabric sat delicately on his shoulders, and Akaashi considered himself in the mirror. With the bruised side of his face angled away from his reflection, he marveled at how normal he looked: a perfectly average teenager in a perfectly average coat that he didn’t have to sleep with anyone for. Maybe he’d never have to sleep with anyone ever again.

Momo-chan mewed at his feet, and he bent down to scratch her head. Soft fur, low hum, flickering tail—the memory of cruel hands on fake ears ambushed him from a shadowy corner of his mind, and he retracted his hand as if burned. Akaashi shut his eyes, tugged on his own fingers, and fought the nausea that quaked through him. Nausea and a pang of...exhilaration. Cruel hands were still hands that touched him, pleasured him, granted him orgasm. Akaashi groaned in anguish. For all the clients who ever disgusted Akaashi, none could ever challenge the revulsion he held for himself. It was at that moment that Kuroo decided to check in once more before leaving for morning practice, but the sight that greeted him was not promising.

”You okay?” He approached cautiously.

Akaashi took a deep breath and spoke on the exhale, “Yeah, I—yes.”

Kuroo pursed his lips but didn’t push the issue. Instead he gestured to the coat and said in his most encouraging voice, “That looks good on you. Matches your eyes.”

Akaashi blushed at the observation, inciting Kuroo’s affinity to tease. He added, “Bokuto would love it.”

The blush deepened, and Kuroo would have gone further if it weren’t for the distress that simultaneously surfaced on Akaashi’s face. That was unusual. In all his interactions with Akaashi, even the smallest reference to Bokuto was enough to put him in a positive mindset.

”Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

Akaashi met Kuroo with an eyebrow cocked in disbelief, so Kuroo rephrased, “I mean, I _did_ , but not in a mean way. Um, for future reference, when should I have shut up?”

Akaashi shrugged the coat off and started hanging it back up. He wasn’t going outside today, anyway. Ever since the kiss, any mention, moment, or memory of Bokuto was confusing. There was, however, something else in Kuroo’s words that weighed like a dense stone in his stomach, and Akaashi didn’t care to voice it. But this was a new morning with a new coat and, for all intents and purposes, a new Akaashi. So he said what was on his mind before his overly analytical brain could stop him.

”Usually when guys compliment my appearance, they’re angling for sex.”

”Oh.”

At Kuroo’s lackluster response, Akaashi frowned. He expected a greater reaction, but maybe Kuroo was just trying to act cool. In a strange reversal of roles, Akaashi found himself wanting to be the one to provoke.

”They start off innocent enough. ‘Cute outfit’, ‘pretty eyes’, even ‘nice ass’ is comparatively mundane. But as soon as we get going, all those nice words turn into ‘dirty whore’ and ‘cum slut’ and ‘fucking bitch’.” Akaashi rolled the harsh words off his tongue and gauged Kuroo for any signs of discomfort. There were none, only a look of mindful consideration. Akaashi regretted going down this road and was about to excuse himself from the conversation when Kuroo finally spoke.

”Akaashi, do you like sex with men?”

Akaashi was dumbfounded. No one ever asked him that before. He never even asked himself that. Up to this point, sex was a business transaction. Whether or not he enjoyed it was secondary, if not negligible. He voiced as much, and Kuroo simply hummed in return and said, “Well it’s something to think about.” Kuroo let the words hang for a moment before adding, “It doesn’t always have to be about power dynamics—I mean, it can be. Sex comes in a lot of forms and with a lot of nuance, you know? But what matters most is that everyone involved enjoys it. I guess my point is that it’s okay to want sex and to experiment and to have kinks, but it’s also okay to say no to things, if that makes sense? People come with a lot of nuances, too.” Kuroo finally reached a point of visible discomfort and stopped talking. They stood in an awkward silence before Kuroo offered a stiff nod of goodbye. He grabbed his bag and slipped out the front door in the direction of Kenma’s house, leaving Akaashi alone to his thoughts.

He locked the door and armed the security alarm the way Kuroo showed him, then returned to the bedroom closet burdened with questions. Did he like sex with men? Did he like sex at all? He often experienced moments of pleasure during sex with clients, but they were almost always followed by immense shame. Was that part of sex? If it was purely about mutual enjoyment, do any of those client hookups even qualify as the kind of sex Akaashi wanted?

He pulled the coat from the closet and searched his reflection for some kind of answer. He received back the visage of a confused teenager trying to parse his complicated sexuality which felt strangely...normal.

Kuroo was right. The coat did match his eyes, and he looked fucking fantastic in it.

***

The school day passed and here Konoha sat in the driver’s side of Bokuto’s car, tapping his finger to the steering wheel nervously. They parked in a lot opposite a corporate skyscraper whose impressive and intimidating tinted windows glared down at them. Bokuto checked the address on the business card one last time before unbuckling his seatbelt, and Konoha tried for one last appeal to sanity.

”Bokuto, what’s your plan here, really?”

”Akaashi didn’t want to come to school, and there’s a guy in there who might be responsible for that.”

Konoha groaned, “That’s not really a plan.”

”I’m just gonna go in there and politely ask him to back off.”

”You can’t just storm in there all Liam Neeson _Taken_ -style! It’s an office building! There’s guards and secretaries and stuff.” Bokuto remained unfazed, so Konoha argued, “Besides, what if he’s dangerous? What if he’s some mobster who’ll have you whacked?”

”All the more reason to storm in there Liam Neeson style,” Bokuto reasoned, plain and simple. “Just keep the car running,” he concluded as he slipped out the passenger side door.

”We had to pay to park here!” Konoha shouted after him, decidedly shutting off the car’s engine. “There won’t be some speedy getaway—ah damn it.” Bokuto was already through the doors, and Konoha could but wait with his forehead resting against the wheel. _I never should have agreed to this._

***

OO Real Estate operated out of the nineteenth floor, and that’s exactly where Bokuto headed. The elevator doors parted, and he was met with the hustle and bustle of a productive office space. It was uncanny how commonplace it all was whereas Bokuto’s mission was anything but.

He strode to the front desk and asked to see Takamura-san. The receptionist was unmoved.

”Do you have an appointment?” She asked.

”No,” Bokuto admitted as he started to see the gaping hole in his plan, but he refused to back down. “Please, I need to speak with him. Just for a few minutes. Would you ask him if he’ll see me?”

”I’m sorry, but without an appointment—“ The receptionist was interrupted when someone behind her remarked, “Whoa! I know you! You’re that ace!”

Bokuto and the receptionist turned their attention on the excited intern, who continued unabated, “My younger sister’s really into the high school volleyball scene. You’re one of the top three aces in the country, right?”

Bokuto bit down on his correction when he saw the receptionist’s renewed interest. He tried his luck once more.

”Yeah, I play for Fukurōdani High. That’s why I’m here—for sponsorships.” Lies were foreign on his tongue, and Bokuto didn’t care for the taste. He would bear it though because the receptionist offered a pleasant smile and said, “I’ll let Takamura-san know you’re here. No promises, okay?”

Bokuto thanked her graciously and took a seat. So what if the day was veering away from action movie hero and more towards dumb high schooler with even dumber luck? He simply wanted to ensure Akaashi’s safety. So what if this guy is dangerous? This was an office space with lots of people. He had his phone unlocked and ready to dial Konoha if things went sideways. So what if Akaashi explicitly told him not to come here? Bokuto chewed his upper lip in agitation. It was too late for second-guesses now…

The receptionist picked up her phone, pressed a complex series of buttons, then said, “Takamura-san, there’s a young man here to see you from Fukurōdani High.”

Cloistered away in his private office with an ice pack on his crotch, Takamura glowered at the intercom. _A high schooler? It couldn’t be...could it?_ Takamura weighed the risk of being seen with K-kun at the office. _He’s already here. People are gonna talk either way. Besides, what if he came to apologize? Or maybe to even accept my offer..._

Takamura wasted no more time. He chucked the ice pack into a drawer, gripped the phone tight, slammed a finger down on the button, and said in his most authoritative voice, “Send him in.”

The line crackled for a few seconds and then, “Takamura-san, either press the button OR lift the receiver to talk to me. Not both. Both doesn’t do anything.”

Out in the waiting area, Bokuto heard Takamura’s staticky swears through the intercom. He was certain the whole office heard, but no one paid any mind. Apparently this was something of a regular occurrence.

”One or the other, sir,” the receptionist chided. “Then you have to press again or else—“

”Holy shit, I got it, I got it. Damn system...Send him in.”

The receptionist shot Bokuto a good-humored eye roll and informed him, “You have ten minutes before his next meeting. Good luck.”

The intercom exchange effectively shook Bokuto from his deliberation. Whoever this Takamura guy was, he was still a fallible human being who breathes and thinks and bleeds. He could do this. With resolve effectively steeled, Bokuto entered the private office and shut the door behind him. Takamura was surprised, to say the least.

”Oh...can I help you?” He frowned.

”Takamura-san? I’m here on behalf of a friend of mine. You gave him your card last weekend,” Bokuto proceeded cautiously. He told Konoha he’d be polite, after all. At the mention of last weekend, Takamura’s frown deepened, twisted, regressed into something bordering on sinister.

”You mean K-kun,” he snapped.

Bokuto tensed at the mood shift and considered his next move. Takamura used the silence to wonder who the boy in front of him was. He seemed young, could very well be a high school student. But past experience told him to be on his guard irrespective of age. The two gauged each other as if animals circling in preparation for a fight. What did he know? What was he hiding?

Takamura bared his teeth first, “I haven’t seen or heard from that bitch in a week.”

Bokuto dropped all pretenses and snarled, “Don’t call him that. You don’t have the right. No one does.”

Takamura scoffed, “What are you, his boyfriend? Trying to be intimidating? He’s the one that should be scared for crossing me.” Takamura swelled with misplaced pride. “He should know better than to treat a paying customer the way he did. I could’ve done a lot worse than a couple blows to the head, you know.“

”So you are the one who hit him.” Bokuto’s voice was even and calm, but Takamura shivered with the abject horror of someone walking over his grave. He pushed past it.

”Christ, don’t you know anything? Why are you even here? You’re not his handler.” Takamura ran his tongue over his teeth and took a second shot at dominance. “That little shit must have you wrapped around his finger, huh? I get it, he’s cute—“

”You hit him,” Bokuto repeated, and Takamura could ignore the quiet threat no longer.

”Y-Yeah, so what? Maybe he’s into that—“ he smirked fearfully “—Hell, he’s into anything for the right price. He’s not so pure and worthy of your protection—“

Takamura never finished his sentence. His back hit the wall, and he barely kept his head from following suit. Bokuto heard enough. He pinned his arm against Takamura’s chest and all but growled. Fear scampered across the man’s face. For all the times Takamura physically overpowered others, he never experienced it himself. He nearly shit his pants.

”Listen.” Bokuto chose each word carefully and spoke slowly. He didn’t want the trembling man before him to ever forget. “I don’t care what you have to say about him. I don’t care how strong and powerful you think you are. You’re a man, aren’t you? Then act like one and stop beating on kids half your age. You say you haven’t contacted him? Great. Keep it that way.”

One more shove, and Bokuto released him. Takamura crumpled instantly. He didn’t move to counterattack; he didn’t even try to stand. He lost this encounter. He watched the high school student stalk out of the room, and Takamura realized a cruel fact of nature: a creature is only as strong as what he fights for. And whatever this boy fought for—even if it was something as foolhardy as love—it was enough.

Takamura pulled himself up and poked his head out the door in time to see the elevator doors shut. The boy was gone, but Takamura sensed the remaining tension of the room. He caught the look on his receptionist’s face and then that of the person standing beside her—his 4:30 appointment, a potential investor who was going to save them this quarter. Their glares were unmistakable: suspicion and awareness and abhorrence. Finally, his gaze landed on the blinking red light on the intercom system, buzzing and crackling with every little sound from his office. Horrid comprehension reared its head and struck. He lost more than the one encounter. He lost it all.

***

Bokuto opened and shut the car door faster than Konoha could react.

”Did you get what you wanted?” Konoha prodded cautiously.

Bokuto didn’t hear him. He stared intently at an imperceptible point in the distance, deep in concentration. Wordlessly, he reached over to the driver’s side and turned the key in the ignition. The car revved to life, and he finally spoke.

”Let’s go see Akaashi.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ch. 13 warnings: nothing too explicit this chapter, some abusive language, some sexual language
> 
> I like to think Kuroo is a very sex positive person.


	14. Normal, Ordinary, Extraordinary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A photograph, a confession, a confrontation, a phone call, and a cake. The pieces come together on a single winter’s night.
> 
> (See end notes for specific chapter warnings)

“You did what‽”

Bokuto immediately lost all gravitas he garnered from his face-off with Takamura the instant Akaashi yelled at him. Akaashi never yelled at him. Konoha, who dallied behind Bokuto as they crossed into the Kuroo household, shrunk even further into the shadows.

“I wanted to help—“ Bokuto sputtered.

“I told you not to go near him! He’s dangerous and, and violent! And you went behind my back and...” Akaashi’s eyes widened when he finally noticed Konoha. Bokuto followed his gaze and paled.

“It’s not what you think—“

“What did you tell him?”

“Akaashi, please, we just want to help—“

“ _What did you tell him?_ ”

Konoha interjected with the best intentions and the least information, “It’s my fault! I’m the one who sent Bokuto down this road. I told him about the McDonald’s and the parking garage and I shouldn’t have—“

“Konoha-san—“

“I know I’m way outta bounds. I was just frustrated and worried and—and scared! I wasn’t thinking about your privacy—“

“Konoha-san, stop,” Akaashi commanded, clenching his eyes shut and pinching the bridge of his nose. Running in to Konoha at the McDonald’s seemed like a lifetime ago, and yet here it was, back to bite him in the ass. All this time he spent skulking in shame and shitty hotel rooms, and the cracks finally showed, harsh enough to spur Konoha to foolhardy action. _Guess I’m not so good at hiding it anymore_ , Akaashi thought dully.

The room waited on Akaashi’s next move. He dropped his hand and fixed his gaze on Bokuto, who straightened up on sight. After two years of close observation, Akaashi put the picture together in an instant.

“You found his business card in my coat before I threw it away.”

Bokuto nodded, but he knew it wasn’t really a question. Akaashi continued.

“Instead of telling me, you used that card to confront him after I specifically told you not to.”

Another unnecessary nod.

“You brought Konoha-san with you for backup, even though I didn’t want anyone else involved.”

This time, Konoha gulped, earning him a stern glare from the setter. He instinctively matched Bokuto’s rigid posture. The two third-years stood there in the entryway, shoes still on and subject to their setter’s scrutiny.

Bokuto dared to glance at Akaashi, who rarely emoted so openly. In a way, it was a relief to be yelled at. Bokuto would gladly take the heat if it meant Akaashi was okay—be it disappointment or anger or…or even hatred. But more than any other emotion, what Bokuto witnessed was total exhaustion.

It seeped into the lines on Akaashi’s face, wearing down his features like steady waves on the shore. Did Akaashi always look like this when Bokuto screwed up? How had he never noticed it before? Two years of parsing how Akaashi thinks, and Bokuto only now realized.

“You weren’t afraid of him for yourself. You were afraid for me,” Bokuto murmured. It was painfully obvious when said aloud. Akaashi always worked so damn hard to make others happy, even to the point of discounting himself. It was all part of that give and take mentality that Bokuto struggled to reciprocate. He thought he was giving back by confronting Takamura, but he was just being irresponsible and insensitive. He ended up disregarding one of the few times Akaashi ever asked anything of him: stay safe.

“I’m sorry.” Bokuto floated in the wave of guilt that passed through him. “I was so focused on _doing_ something that I completely ignored what you wanted. Can you forgive me?”

Akaashi blinked.

Bokuto waited.

Konoha gawked. Akaashi yelling, and now Bokuto apologizing? It wasn’t as if Bokuto was arrogant or intentionally rude. He just never made serious infractions. Konoha really stepped into something big here, and he wasn’t sure yet if that was a good or bad thing. _Thanks a lot, gut instinct_.

Before Akaashi had the chance to respond, Kuroo burst through the doorway, paper in hand and Kenma in tow. “We’ve got a lead!” He declared, then quickly followed with, “The vibe in here is…really weird. Konoha-kun, what are you doing here?”

Konoha jumped and said, “I, uh, I-I don’t really know.” He tugged at his sleeve, willing away the attention. “I should probably go.”

Akaashi, jarred from Bokuto’s sudden insight and subsequent apology, cleared his throat and decided. “No, Konoha-san. Please stay.”

Kuroo skated over each tense face and stiff shoulder as the group followed Akaashi into the living room. He tossed the paper in his hands onto the coffee table and directed an educated guess at Bokuto.

“You went.”

Bokuto grimaced. “Yeah…”

Kuroo sighed openly. “Did you at least get anything? Any evidence?”

Bokuto eyed Akaashi, who stared thoughtfully at no spot in particular, before revealing, “I don’t think it’s him.” He had the eyes of the room (minus Akaashi), so he elaborated, “I don’t really have hard proof, but that was the impression I got. Like, he’s an asshole, and I shoved him pretty hard—” Konoha audibly groaned “—but he seemed genuinely surprised to be talking about Akaashi. Plus he only referred to him as…he didn’t use Akaashi’s name. I don’t think he knew it.”

The group mulled over the information in quiet contemplation. Konoha’s eyes wandered to the table. He noticed the paper lying atop and gasped. It was an enlarged photograph on regular printer paper—not the best quality, but the subject was clear. He reached for the picture and asked, “Kuroo-san, what is this?”

“Oh, uh,” Kuroo shot a look at Akaashi, who returned a single, curt nod without eye contact. Kuroo proceeded, “I talked to the woman who lives at the end of the street. She’s an integral cog in the neighborhood watch-police state machinery, and for once that worked in my favor! She snapped a picture of the car that was here last night. Said it definitely didn’t belong to anyone in the community. Now, I can’t make out the whole license plate, but it’s a start. If what Bokuto said is true, then maybe we can use this image to…”

Konoha stopped listening to Kuroo’s explanation and instead studied the photo with dour recognition. He pushed the paper across the table to Akaashi, who pointedly avoided looking at anyone. When the photograph came into his periphery, Akaashi took one glance and understood.

 _This was on your door when I got here…_  
_Heard your manager dropped you…_  
_You’ll be dead in a week…_

Of-fucking-course.

“I know who it is.”

***

_Tuesday, Dec. 4th, 20:26_  
_From: Akaashi Keiji_  
_To: Sai_

_Akaashi: I need to speak with you. It’s urgent. Regular place in an hour._

***

Bokuto stared at the neon arches above his dashboard as they mocked him with their yellow glow. It was nearing the hour mark now, and Sai read but did not respond to Akaashi’s message. Akaashi was not dissuaded; he recognized Sai’s attempt at a power play.

The plan was simple. Akaashi would talk to Sai while the other four boys stayed close by as reinforcements. Kenma, Kuroo, and Konoha were already seated at a cozy booth at the end of the restaurant. Konoha, obscured by a mask and hoodie, trained his focus on the door, watching for Sai’s arrival; Kenma absently scrolled through his phone, regularly updating Akaashi; and Kuroo made trivial conversation to protect their guise as regular restaurant patrons.

Akaashi and Bokuto waited in Bokuto’s car a good distance from the fast food joint, decidedly not in the parking garage Sai was likely to use. They would enter together after Sai arrived. It was Kenma’s idea, and it assured that Akaashi reserved the right to not show and that no one was alone at any point. Well, except for when Akaashi talked to Sai. That part Akaashi insisted he do alone, much to Bokuto’s dismay.

Now he and Bokuto needed only to wait. Together. In a parked car. Painfully aware of each other’s breathing.

“I don’t like this plan,” Bokuto whispered. He flicked his gaze away from the oppressive neon lights and studied the steering wheel instead. “I thought you never wanted to talk to him again.”

Akaashi leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms in contemplation. He didn’t know what he would say or how he would react upon seeing Sai again. Sai, who played him for the better part of two years, who treated him like an object, who looked so shocked yet so conniving when Akaashi finally said no. Akaashi’s desire for this showdown surprised him, too. He examined the stirring in his chest. Was he feeling vindictive? Prideful? Maybe he wanted to have the last laugh. But none of those felt quite right. They skirted around a much larger yearning in the spacious area where incredible pressure once resided. Akaashi was done feeling empty and tired and scared; he was ready for something different.

“I won’t be alone. You’ll be a few booths away,” Akaashi reassured.

Bokuto absorbed Akaashi’s words and immediately smacked a hand to his forehead. Akaashi jolted at the action, and Bokuto moaned, “I did it again! I made it so you’re worrying about me when we should be focusing on you.”

Bokuto threw his arm over his eyes, and Akaashi leaned forward to get a better look at him. He recalled all the times that arm draped around his shoulders, grounded and secure. When Bokuto hugged him goodbye last night, Akaashi detected hesitancy. At the time, he blamed it on the bombshell of information he dropped on Bokuto. He even wondered if he would ever receive a confident touch from the ace ever again.

Now, having discovered and subsequently chewed out Bokuto for his dumb ass decisions earlier today, Akaashi knew better. Bokuto was simply focused on helping, his own safety be damned. And as upset as Akaashi was, he couldn’t help but think of all the times he failed to take his own well-being into account for Bokuto’s sake. Akaashi directed his gaze out the window and searched himself for the words that stood at the intersection of what he needed to say, wanted to say, and fully believed in. A soft, subdued smile found its way to his lips when he landed on the magic words.

“Me worrying about you and you worrying about me aren’t mutually exclusive. I won’t run out of concern for myself by spending some on you.”

Bokuto dropped his arm from his eyes and marveled at the boy in the passenger seat. He seemed miles away from who he was just a few days ago, and yet he was exactly the same person—thoughtful, careful, honest, kind, strong: Akaashi Keiji, a wonderful paradox in a royal blue coat.

“I like you.”

Bokuto let the words slip out unintentionally. He only realized he said anything at all when Akaashi’s wide eyes turned to face him.

“You—really?”

Bokuto’s lips moved, but all that came out was a wheezy exhale. The words were out there now, and there was no changing that. He cleared his throat and tried again.

“Yeah. Yes. Of course. I—wow. I didn’t know it until I said it just now, but...I like you, Akaashi.” Bokuto looked just as surprised as Akaashi. Both boys found themselves in the sudden predicament of not being able to look the other in the eye, but also not wanting to look anywhere else. Akaashi settled on Bokuto’s left shoulder and Bokuto stared at the top of Akaashi’s head.

Akaashi pierced the silence with incredible apprehension.

“Bokuto-san, I...I don’t think I can give you an answer right now.”

Bokuto’s responded rapidly, “Of course! That’s fine. That’s totally fine—“

“It’s just that this is a really weird time for me—for both of us—“

“I understand completely, and I didn’t say it with any expectations—“

“I do care about you a lot. That’s not gonna change—“

They tumbled back into silence when they realized they started talking over each other. Akaashi was burning a hole in Bokuto’s shoulder now, and Bokuto started counting the hairs on Akaashi’s head. Minutes passed, and still no sign of Sai. They coughed nervously, glanced out the windows, and checked their phones without any actual intent.

The body heat in the car steadily climbed then settled. Akaashi meekly asked, “Bokuto-san, have you ever dated anyone?”

“No,” Bokuto murmured back.

“Neither have I. I’m not really sure how to—I’ve had such a complicated…I can’t imagine myself doing something so… _normal_.”

The admission floated into the air, quiet and nebulous. Bokuto considered it for a moment before asking, “What does normal mean to you?”

Akaashi’s brow scrunched up as a slew of strange memories surfaced. He thought about his reflection, about the last guy he slept with, about his Friday night dinners with Sai. As he grappled for his answer, Bokuto put forth an admission of his own.

“I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately. Especially with how I play. I know I can depend on you and the rest of Fukurōdani to carry me, and I’m so grateful for that. But I also know that I’ll play on other teams, and they won’t all be like that, so...I wanna be better at working with others. Blending, supporting. That’s normal to me. And I think I learned that from you.” Bokuto contorted his body to fully face Akaashi, pleather creaking and seat belt protesting. He knew what he wanted to say next, and he wanted Akaashi to know it, too.

“Akaashi, you are normal.”

His ears received the sound, his brain interpreted the meaning, and his response was instantaneous. Akaashi laughed. More than laughed, he _guffawed_. Vibrations racked his frame; his diaphragm seized with spasms. He clenched his torso and experienced the honest to goodness need for air due to excessive laughter. He managed a sizable inhale and noticed Bokuto’s mixed expression of embarrassment and mild concern through watery eyes. Akaashi clapped a hand to Bokuto’s shoulder, partly to reassure his friend but also to steady himself, and spoke between gasps.

“I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at you. And it’s not because I don’t believe you. I know you’re being sincere. I just,” Akaashi wheezed, “I never thought about it like that before.” He let the laughter run its course. When he finally regained some composure, he said, “Bokuto-san, you’re so…being honest with yourself and true to your feelings, relying on others when you need it…that’s ‘normal’ to me, and those are things I see in you.”

Bokuto beamed. “I’m normal, too?”

Akaashi thought for a moment and said, “No. You don’t get to be in the top 5 by being normal.”

“What! No, just wait! I’ll be an ordinary ace, you’ll see!”

Bokuto gesticulated wildly to prove his point, and Akaashi burst into laughter once more. He couldn’t remember the last time he experienced such uncontrollable joy. This wasn’t some rushed orgasm wrung out of him for a client’s gratification. Even whistles blowing and shoes squeaking and that incredible feeling of a victory had nothing on this moment. Akaashi once thought that Bokuto was the brilliant star to his endless void, and indeed Bokuto shined extraordinarily. But, if laughs as bubbly and spontaneous and full-bodied as this existed within him, then Akaashi simply had to think: _I can shine, too_.

***

_Tuesday, Dec. 4th, 21:12_  
_From: Sai_  
_To: Akaashi Keiji_

_Sai: Better behave if you want my help now. I’ll be there soon. Wait._

Akaashi read Sai’s text with a snort. A presumptive response designed to hold Akaashi hostage to Sai’s whim. A week ago, Akaashi obeyed and even believed Sai’s words. Now, they read like cheap talk from a used car salesman.

Akaashi decided to wait in the restaurant. Kenma advised against it, but Akaashi didn’t want to risk Sai never showing because he wasn’t supposedly waiting like a good little boy. Besides, this allowed Akaashi grab a moderately centralized booth, three down from his support team. Despite Bokuto’s best efforts to argue his way into waiting with Akaashi, he now sat alone. It was past 10pm now, and the McDonald’s night staff—though not terribly invested—eyed the boys occasionally.

 _Tuesday, Dec. 4th, 22:37_  
_Group message: Kozume Kenma, Akaashi Keiji, Bokuto Kōtarō, Kuroo Tetsurō, Konoha Akinori_

_Kenma: Almost 11. Think he’s gonna show?_

_Akaashi: He’ll show._

_Bokuto: How do you know?_

_Akaashi: He thinks he’s got the upper hand. He’ll show._

_Bokuto: That’s not encouraging…_

_Konoha: Akaashi…_  
_Konoha: What if he brings a weapon or blackmail or something?_  
_Konoha: Do we even know how he followed you to Kuroo’s?_

_Bokuto: NOT ENCOURAGING_

From his lone booth, Akaashi frowned. The question gnawed at him since he saw Sai’s car in the photograph. Even if Sai knew Akaashi’s circle of friends, running into Kuroo at the dry cleaners that day was so spontaneous, there was no way Sai could have predicted it. Kenma dropped a hyperlink to an article into the group chat: “Are They Cheating On You?”

_Kenma: Akaashi, look at this list. Do you have any of these apps on your phone?_

_Kuroo: Kenma wtf is this??_

_Kenma: People secretly download apps onto their SO’s devices to track them._

_Kuroo: WTF_

Akaashi heard Kuroo rant aloud about the erosion of privacy, but he didn’t listen. He was too busy scouring his phone. Various icons innocuously designed to look like one of the many preset mobile apps, hiding in plain sight…Akaashi found three from the list, and they were all linked to Sai’s number. His stomach churned as he deleted each one. How long had Sai been keeping tabs on him like this? Sai bought him this phone; he made sure he knew the passcode. He had his phone after Akaashi ran from Takamura, was it since then or…?

Akaashi spent the next half hour checking his remaining applications, ensuring that they were all real. His face was so close to the screen now that he nearly missed the sound of the door opening and Konoha’s noticeable flinch down the aisle. A shadow passed over his shoulder and slid into the seat across from him. Sai was here.

“Sorry to make you wait,” he grinned coyly. “Had some other stuff to take care of tonight.”

Akaashi fleetingly wondered if Sai was telling the truth or not. It didn’t matter; the impact of words mattered more to Sai than honesty. Akaashi wasted no time.

“Stop sending me fake threats.”

Sai’s smile faltered. He leaned back in his seat and studied Akaashi cautiously. “Threats? Sounds pretty serious.” He feigned ignorance, but Akaashi refused to doubt himself this time.

“Takamura didn’t leave the collar on my door, and he isn’t the one threatening to sell my personal information.”

Sai’s eyebrows raised with a collected, casual quality as he said, “You’re pretty certain, Akaashi-kun. A brave face doesn’t suit you—“

“Cut the shit.”

Silence. Unyielding silence. Sai dropped the cavalier attitude in favor of blatant displeasure. Akaashi gave him no room to respond.

“What were you expecting? For me to come crying to you, begging for help? If Takamura was really after me, there’s no way in hell you could stop him. You’d cut your losses and save your ass. But he isn’t after me. You are. ‘Cause I’m not yours anymore, and that freaks you out.” Akaashi was amazed at his confidence in the face of uncharted territory. He charged straight ahead. “I’m not here to ask for your help, Sai. I’m telling you to leave me alone.”

Displeasure twisted into disgust, and a snarl snaked its way onto Sai’s lips. He dropped the savior pretense and leaned into the role that worked a hundred times before: intimidator. Shifting his weight forward onto his arm on the table, Sai invaded Akaashi’s half of the booth. The motion was swift enough to make the boy recoil on instinct, and Sai heard the abrupt clattering of chairs behind him. He shot a glance over his shoulder and caught a pair of familiar eyes among four people openly glaring at him. Three of them restrained one boy in particular, whom Sai recognized from Akaashi’s team—that broom head was rather distinct. Sai barked out a laugh as he faced Akaashi again.

“Is that your protection squad, Akaashi-kun? Konoha-kun looks ready to piss his pants.”

Akaashi didn’t acknowledge the jab. He didn’t tell Konoha the whole story—or any of the story, in fact. All Konoha knew was that Akaashi was in trouble, and, though his anxiety was through the roof, that was all he needed to get onboard. Akaashi wasn’t worried about Konoha. If anything, he was more concerned about Bokuto. He would pop a vein soon if he didn’t calm down. Part of Akaashi sighed inwardly at Bokuto’s untempered passion, but another, louder part of him was grateful. Bokuto’s fervor was empowering, and it made Akaashi sit up tall. This didn’t escape Sai’s notice. He changed tactics.

“You think your friends are gonna save you? I’m sure they mean well, but they don’t know the world we live in. You may think I’m the bad guy in your story, Akaashi-kun—and maybe I am—but that doesn’t change the fact that you need me. Takamura’s not the only client out there who’s gonna hurt you. And naive shits like that,” Sai jammed a thumb in his friends’ direction, “will always abandon you. People are cruel, Akaashi-kun. You should know that by now.”

“There are no cruel people. Just cruel choices.” The words bypassed Akaashi’s brain and tumbled right out of his mouth. Sai was momentarily stupefied, and Akaashi was certain there was a matching expression on his own face. _Where did that come from?_ It surprised him, like the voice in his head—the one that sounded a lot like Bokuto—often did. Or perhaps it sounded more like something Kuroo would say—mindful and thought-provoking. Or maybe it was Kenma, keenly pointing out an obvious truth that Akaashi completely missed.

 _People are just people making choices—cruel ones, kind ones, strong or weak or neither. Choosing to be kind isn’t foolish, and choosing yourself isn’t shameful._ Akaashi let the sentiment roll around in his head. It was pleasant. No, more than pleasant—it was _true_.

Sai recovered some semblance of cool, but he strained under the collective weight of Akaashi’s audacity and the glares behind him. He directed one more look over his shoulder, hoping to tamp down some of the pressure. Raging golden eyes refused to back down, and Sai’s mind reeled. Maybe he could use that. Use the friends to undermine Akaashi then go for the kill. He’s done it before, and he can do it again. Sai glowered at Akaashi down the length of his nose, attempting to wrest away what little ground the boy thought he had.

“That’s your knight in shining armor, huh?” Sai jerked a nod in Bokuto’s direction, but Akaashi knew who he meant regardless. Bokuto was radiating menace, after all. “Did he give you a good fuck? Did he _make love_ to you?” Sai spat the phrase out like a dirty word. “Did he hold your hand and look into your eyes and tell you how special you are? You think he’s a hero, but you’re just trading me for him. You’re a whore, _K-kun_.” Akaashi’s eye twitched. Sai smiled maniacally. “Puppy love, high school sweethearts, happily ever after—give me a break. None of that shit is real. Not for broken people like you. Have you told him? Does he know all the things you’ve done? All the guys you’ve fucked? You can pretend as much as you want, but anyone can see just how pathetic you are. If he says otherwise, he’s lying. Or he’s an idiot. Either way, you’re gonna end up dragging him down with you.”

Akaashi sat patiently and let Sai rant, and for the first time, he didn’t just listen—he heard. He heard the cynicism, the barely masked notes of hatred and loneliness, the resignation and wrath, and suddenly Sai became clearer to Akaashi than ever before. Akaashi didn’t come here to forgive, and he certainly wouldn’t forget. But he didn’t expect to learn.

Sai stopped speaking when he realized he didn’t have Akaashi’s cowering attention. He scowled and scrambled to find one more way to pin Akaashi under his thumb. He hated losing more than anything, and losing that gullible, broken boy to whom he could do anything would be the greatest loss of all. He thought, he scrounged, he panicked. He felt vulnerable, and he _loathed_ it. All the while, Akaashi never wavered in meeting his gaze, and Sai knew: that boy didn’t exist anymore.

Sai finally lost his composure. He bared his teeth over the plastic table top and gripped its metal edge, “You think you’re so much better than me, don’t you? I _made_ you. You’d be dead if it weren’t for me. What—“ Sai choked “—what gives you the right to look down on me?”

Akaashi put a hand up under the table to ward off his friends several booths down. He didn’t feel unsafe yet; he didn’t even feel scared. Within the folds of security his friends’ gave him, there was something else stirring. Akaashi looked over the man across from him, solitary and shaken, and he knew what it was.

_Pity._

Sai thought Akaashi looked down on him, but Akaashi knew better. He knew that to the unhappy heart, condescension and pity look the same. But Akaashi wouldn’t be the one to teach the distinction to Sai. He didn’t owe the man anything, let alone a life lesson.

Akaashi stood up to leave, inciting Sai to grab his arm and raise his voice. Both Bokuto and Kuroo were on their feet now. Kenma and Konoha reluctantly held them back, waiting on Akaashi’s signal.

“I could ruin you. You think your school would let you stay if they knew what you are? You think your boyfriend would keep you? What makes you so special, huh? Why should you get a happy ending?”

Sai attempted to growl, but it came out more like a whine. Akaashi saw the past two years reflected in Sai’s eyes. The wretched lengths he went to. The careful actions pitted against Akaashi’s own self-worth. The desperate moves of desperate man who only knew one way to make others stay. All that work and time and energy for a precarious sliver of a detestable codependency, but weren’t they both miserable in the end? Akaashi saw a small man in a big world, a world full of better choices and better people more deserving of his time. Happily-ever-afters don’t exist, but “afters” did. And Akaashi was ready for this after.

“Do whatever you want, Sai. I don’t expect some special ending.” Akaashi shook him off. He calmly put on his coat while Sai stared on in disbelief.

“I’m just ordinary. And you know what, Sai?”

He fixed the defeated man with a final knowing gaze and said,

“So are you.”

***

Akaashi stepped out onto the pavement and took a moment to breathe. A gust of wind, chilly and damp, circled him like a dance partner. He drew his coat in tighter around his frame, leaned against the wall, and considered the gray mass of the sky above. His friends soon followed him out, and they walked quietly to the car, falling into formation around Akaashi without any prior coordination.

No one knew what might happen next. There was no guarantee that Sai would leave Akaashi alone, leave any of them alone. In light of the uncertainty, Akaashi chose to stay with Bokuto for the night. All romantic and sexual tension aside, Akaashi reasoned that Sai likely didn’t know Bokuto’s address, and that meant it was the safest option. Kuroo and Kenma agreed to keep a lookout around their neighborhood. Konoha and Bokuto promised the same at Fukurōdani.

Kenma, the only one who knew about the K-kun website, exchanged a series of discrete texts with Akaashi. He suggested a few avenues—legal and not so legal—that they could use take it down. While the thought of that webpage and its videos hanging out there made his throat clench, Akaashi doubted Sai would actually do anything with it to hurt him. He couldn’t quite explain it, but he felt as if a spell lifted. No curse bound him anymore. Akaashi knew it, and he was certain that Sai knew it, too.

They piled into the car, and Bokuto dropped people off one-by-one until it was just him and Akaashi. The two of them pulled into the gated lot of Bokuto’s apartment building, and soon Akaashi found himself in a familiar den with a familiar kotatsu and a fresh bowl of oranges.

Akaashi listened to Bokuto sing in the shower, and he hummed along to the indiscernible melody. He would have fallen asleep to the thrum of running water and the heat of the kotatsu if not for the buzz of his phone. This time, Akaashi picked up on the first ring.

“Keiji?”

“Dad.”

“I’m so glad I caught you! We were worried when you didn’t pick up earlier.”

“Sorry. Is everything okay?” Akaashi steeled his nerves. He did incredible things today. Whatever new disaster life wanted to throw at him, he could handle it. “Are you and mom alright?”

“We’re fine—better than fine!” Akaashi heard his father draw an excited breath. “Your mother got promoted! She’s in upper management now! And it’s not just a salary upgrade—her company’s paying to relocate us nearer to the central office. We’re gonna be near your school—“ His father bridled his enthusiasm and shifted into a more practiced, even tone. He continued, “I mean, we understand that you’re used to the independent lifestyle now, but…your mother and I would really like it if we could all live under the same roof again. If you haven’t renewed your lease yet, that is.”

Akaashi was sure he detached from reality again. It couldn’t be this easy. Life was never so kind as to provide a path like this. Somewhere in the distance, he heard Bokuto start a solo to a new song. Somewhere, Konoha tried to convince his parents that he wasn’t out past curfew on a date. Kuroo just emptied Momo-chan’s litter box while she watched him with immense suspicion. Kenma just reached a checkpoint in a game and was debating whether to continue or turn in for the night. Akaashi swore he saw it all happening—all these little mundane things that were so simple and happy and ordinary—and finally, he saw himself sharing a phone call with his father. _An ordinary life_.

His father cleared his throat and pulled Akaashi back into the present.

“Anyway, just think about it. You don’t have to give an answer right away—”

“I’d like that, too,” Akaashi stated clearly. For all the times he called home, all the times he lied through his teeth and felt the cinch of the vise, he never expected good news to be what knocked him off-balance so completely. There was no need for him to have his guard up now, so Akaashi said the first thing that came to mind.

“I love you.”

“Love you too, bud.” He heard the smile in his father’s voice. “And hey, happy birthday.”

Shocked, Akaashi checked the date and time on his phone. Wednesday, Dec. 5th, 00:02. _Ah, right. Forgot about that_.

“Sorry we can’t be there to celebrate with you. Doing anything to mark the occasion?” His father asked.

“I’m spending it with a friend,” Akaashi’s lips stretched into an astonished smile at the absurd honesty of his answer. They talked a little while longer, but his father had work tomorrow and Akaashi had school, so he shouldn’t go staying up too late now.

Akaashi ended the call in such a daze that he didn’t notice Bokuto enter the room, clad in pajama bottoms with a towel around his neck and a foil-covered plate in his hands. He sat across from Akaashi, tucked his legs under the kotatsu, and joined him in staring out the window.

After a few easy minutes, Akaashi spoke, “It’s my birthday.” He said it in awe, more to convince himself of the fact than anything else.

“I know.”

The way Bokuto said it caught Akaashi’s attention. He peeled his eyes from the window to see a smushed brown and white pastry mass with illegible frosting letters situated neatly between himself and a sheepishly grinning Bokuto.

“Is that,” Akaashi paused, deciding how to ask politely, “Is that a…cake? For me?”

“Happy birthday, ‘kaashi,” Bokuto beamed.

Laughter bubbled out of Akaashi like an emergent spring, and they shared in Bokuto’s beautiful baking monstrosity. Despite its appearance, the cake was delicious, and Akaashi savored every bite. Bokuto described how he decided to try baking when he couldn’t sleep last night, and Akaashi scolded him for improper sleep habits. Neither boy noticed how late it was until they were already laying down and drifting off. Neither noticed how close they shifted to one another until their legs were already entwined. And as one hand fell into another’s and they both savored the welcoming warmth of blankets and body heat, neither paid any mind to the winter sky outside, dark clouds surging with the deepest sigh of relief.

Snowfall at last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing explicit this chapter.
> 
> The title and dialogue between Bokuto and Akaashi in this chapter was inspired by ch. 401 of the manga. I don’t think it really counts as a spoiler?
> 
> Thanks to all y’all for reading! We’re coming up on the final chapter soon, and I’m really excited to give these boys the closure they deserve.


	15. Time After Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chance encounters, domestic bliss, and long weekends with the person you love. Life is full of afters and whatever else comes after that.
> 
> (See end notes for chapter specific warnings)

There’s a pet shop in Shibuya that partners with local rescue shelters. Five years ago, the shop’s biggest selling point was its high-end cat necessities, but now the annual adopt-a-thons are its greatest draw. The franchise still sells the fanciest of cat foods, and Akaashi was currently caring for two kittens of such caliber—they take after their mother in that regard.

It was in this pet shop, in the cat food aisle, in the middle of adoption week, and deciding between two cans of wet food that Akaashi heard a notable gasp come from behind him. He turned around and took a moment or two to place the face of the woman staring back at him. Five years was a long time, and she wasn’t wearing a grease-stained uniform nor was he calming down from a life-threatening chase.

”It’s you,” she muttered in disbelief. Then a smile broke out across her face as she said, “It’s good to see you again.”

Akaashi cracked a smile to rival her own. “You too,” he said. “Thank you again for that time.”

A pair of pigtails poked out from behind the woman, and a girl— _probably nine years old_ , Akaashi reasoned—pulled at her mother’s sleeve. The woman leaned down and listened to her daughter’s whisper before responding, “Why don’t you ask him yourself?”

The girl stiffened, then faced Akaashi and mumbled, “Are you gonna adopt the pit bull?”

The girl pointed at the kennel in the center of the store. Puppies yipped and tugged at each other’s ears and tails, tripping over themselves and earning coos from every passing patron. One calmer, older pit bull watched Akaashi and the little girl with a patiently cocked head.

Akaashi turned back to the girl and clarified, “No, I’m not here for a dog.”

The girl instantly relaxed and quipped, “Good. I would fight you for her,” before skipping off to talk to her beloved pooch. The woman looked apologetic over her daughter’s nerve, but Akaashi chuckled lightly.

”She convinced you,” he said, remembering her stories from the diner kitchen.

The woman laughed sheepishly and nodded. She eyed the canned food in Akaashi’s hands. “You have a cat?”

”I’m fostering two. My friend’s still looking for homes for the whole litter. But I’m hoping to adopt them,” Akaashi replied airily.

”What’s stopping you?”

Akaashi couldn’t fight the grin that spread across his face. “My boyfriend really wants an owl.”

They enjoyed the light-hearted catch-up. Neither mentioned the day at the diner, but the woman remembered it completely. She remembered taking the trash out only to find a scared kid crouching behind the dumpster. She remembered the mud on his coat, the bruises on his body, the weariness in his voice. She remembered the calm that spread through him as they chatted, the soft expression on his face when she showed him pictures of her kids, the look of absolute relief in his eyes when a certain boy showed up to take him home.

”You seem really happy,” she noted, and blood creeped up Akaashi’s neck.

”I, yeah, I…I’ve got good people in my life,” Akaashi mumbled, running a hand up his neck to drive the blush away.

”That’s good,” she replied. “Those are hard to come by.”

Their conversation ended with the promise to get a cup of coffee sometime as her daughter called her away. Akaashi made his purchase and left the store with a lighter gait. A tinny “Hey, hey, hey!” resounded from his pocket. Kuroo recorded the catchphrase at their last get together, and Bokuto demanded everyone there set it as their personal ringtone for him. As far as Akaashi knew, he was the only one who complied, but that was mainly because Kenma set it and Akaashi didn’t know how to change it back. Then again, he didn’t try very hard. Akaashi readjusted his grip on the bags and answered his phone.

”Ahgaaasheee!”

”What’s wrong, Bokuto?”

”Are you almost home? One of the cats hid under the bed, and I can’t get them out.”

Akaashi chuckled, and Bokuto lamented, “Don’t laugh! What if they’re stuck under there?”

”I’m sure they’re fine. I’m on my way. You’ll never guess who I ran into…”

***

After that fateful night, Akaashi and Bokuto woke up to knee-high snow and an email from Fukurōdani announcing that school was cancelled for the day. They spent Akaashi’s birthday together in fluttery conversations with light brushes of knuckles and the warmth of each other’s company. For the first time since meeting him, Akaashi completely dropped his guard in front of Bokuto. He talked honestly, and Bokuto listened earnestly; he wasn’t ready to date anyone. The snow day came and went, and so did their time together, and life came after that.

He stayed at Furkurōdani. He moved back in with his parents for the remainder of high school. He messaged Kenma more regularly and stayed over at Kuroo’s occasionally. He played alongside and against people he loved and admired. He captained the team in his third year, and his upperclassmen came to cheer on their alma mater at nationals. He studied hard in college, went to parties, made new friends, kept up with old ones, and tried his best to catch every one of Bokuto’s games.

They met each other again after a particularly contentious loss at the end of Bokuto’s debut season with the Black Jackals. Akaashi called him to see how he was doing, and Bokuto suggested they grab dinner together. They talked, they ate, they set up another meal when Bokuto boasted about his improved cooking skills. They called it a meal, but privately both boys thought it a date. All in all, it wasn’t exactly what Akaashi envisioned when he dreamed about a world far removed from hookups in hotel rooms, but that was okay because those were fantasies and this was real. No escapism, no roles, just life: simple, real, and ordinary.

***

Akaashi pushed through their apartment door, cat food cans clanking. A fluffy Ragdoll mix greeted him with a brush up against his shin.

”Hey Mei-chan,” Akaashi cooed as he tucked the food into the pantry. “Where’s our boys?” Mei-chan mewed and led Akaashi into the bedroom, where he found Bokuto’s ass sticking out from under the bed. _Not a bad sight_ , Akaashi mused.

”Mei-chan!” Bokuto’s muffled voice carried up from under the bed. “C’mon. I’m not gonna hurt you!”

Akaashi kneeled down and rested a hand on the small of Bokuto’s back. Bokuto startled, and a dull thump sounded as his head met the wooden frame of the bed. He squirmed out, red faced and sweating from the cramped space if not also from the unexpected touch.

”You’re back!” Bokuto breathed, still lying on his stomach.

”That’s not Mei-chan,” Akaashi informed. “It’s her brother.”

Bokuto frowned. “Are you sure? Mei-chan’s got grey ears.”

”They both have gray ears.” Akaashi got onto his stomach too and peered beneath the bed frame. Glowing eyes reflected back at him, watching carefully. “Yep,” Akaashi concluded, “Scrunched face, darker fur around the maw. That’s Nobu-chan.” He extended his hand, and the kitten slowly stalked forward to give it a tentative sniff. Nobu-chan deemed Akaashi worthy and nestled his forehead into the open palm before padding out from under the bed. He gave Bokuto a curious glare and darted out the door with his sister close behind.

Before Akaashi wriggled out from under the bed, Bokuto army crawled in to join him. “They don’t like me,” He pouted.

”It’s only the second day. They’ll warm up to you,” Akaashi soothed. Bokuto made a noncommittal noise, so Akaashi ventured, “Are you upset that I volunteered our place when Kuroo asked?”

”Hm, no. I’m glad we could give them a place to stay. But this was the first long weekend we both had off in a while. I guess I was hoping to spend it just with you.”

Akaashi hummed through his nose. They sat in companionable silence, bodies resting comfortably against one another. Two grown men, half under a bed frame, breathing in dust bunnies and listening to the sound of kittens running around their apartment.

”We should really clean under here more often,” Akaashi remarked while forcing down a cough. Bokuto said nothing in response, but instead he shifted at an uncomfortable angle and reached over to push Akaashi’s glasses up his nose. Akaashi snickered at the gesture, instantly regretting when dust flew into his windpipe. He wormed out from under the bed to cough properly, and Bokuto followed suit. He rubbed a steady hand along Akaashi’s back and said, “I’ll get you some water.”

As he stood up, he pressed a quick kiss to Akaashi’s lips then grimaced. “Gross. You had dust on your mouth.” He pulled a face, and Akaashi smacked his pant leg as he left the room.

Akaashi scooted up to sit on the bed and ran his hands over the linen. He recalled shopping for the bed set together, back when they first decided to move in together. The shōnen manga editing department just hired Akaashi, and the MSBY Black Jackals renewed Bokuto’s contract. It was an encouraging time for the couple, and they broke in the new furniture eagerly and repeatedly.

Blush dusted Akaashi’s cheeks at the memory of their first night living together. Who ever thought he’d turn bashful over sex? But _oh_ , sex with Bokuto was something else entirely. Even when they were newly exploring the physical side of their relationship, when things were awkward and uncertain, when Akaashi was learning how to ask for things and Bokuto was learning how to provide them, it was always fun and exciting and honest and loving and flooded with the emotions Akaashi once excised on the basis of business. It took time— _they_ took time—and Akaashi was glad they did.

Akaashi stood up just in time to meet Bokuto in the doorway, glass in hand. He downed the water, set the cup aside, and looped his arms around Bokuto’s neck to lean in for a kiss. Lips met, eyes closed, hands on his waist. Akaashi would be lying if he said he didn’t like how much Bokuto bulked up since high school. Strong muscles tensed as forearms wrapped around Akaashi’s back, pulling him closer into Bokuto’s firm chest. Akaashi ran his tongue over Bokuto’s lips which parted immediately and lightly clawed a hand down Bokuto’s clothed back. Bokuto shivered at the touch. He pulled back by the smallest margin and gauged Akaashi through dilated pupils. With breath hot against his lips, he asked, “Do you wanna make out on the bed, or…?”

Akaashi completed the sentence without hesitation. “I wanna have sex.”

Bokuto flashed a grin, then donned a faux pout. “I was gonna cook you a nice dinner. Open that bottle of wine Konoha gave us at our housewarming. It was gonna be really romantic.”

”We can still do that,” Akaashi teased. He peppered kisses along Bokuto’s jawline as the older man hummed in consideration. “Maybe we’ll have another round after dinner.”

”After dessert,” Bokuto corrected as he slid a hand down and rubbed small circles low on Akaashi’s back. “I made that cake you like.”

”Wow, this really is a special weekend,” Akaashi chuckled. Bokuto seized the moment to dip down and scoop Akaashi up. The younger boy yelped in surprise and instinctively latched on to Bokuto: arms on his shoulders, legs around his waist, and body fully leaned into his embrace. Akaashi leaned down and captured Bokuto’s mouth in another kiss as they worked their way to the bed.

Without breaking the kiss, Bokuto laid Akaashi down gently and slotted between the his legs. He covered Akaashi with his own body, rutting lightly against his crotch. He pressed one arm to the mattress above Akaashi’s head while the other dipped beneath Akaashi’s shirt. He rubbed and pinched and pulled at his nipples in the rough way Akaashi liked, and Bokuto delighted in the soft whines that escaped Akaashi’s lips. He pulled from the kiss long enough to ask, “Can I take this off?”

Akaashi nodded and leaned forward to help pull the shirt off. Bokuto dove back into the kiss, and the soft fabric of his shirt brushed against Akaashi’s sore nipples. It was exhilarating, but he craved closer contact. Akaashi dragged a hand down Bokuto’s back and toyed with the hem of his shirt. Akaashi uttered out a breathless, “Yours?”

Bokuto hummed in agreement and stripped the offending article off. Shirts discarded, mouths locked, and hands wandering, they reveled in the other’s heat. Bokuto rocked his hips down, eliciting a moan from Akaashi. He could feel the bulge in Bokuto’s shorts brush against his own, and Akaashi was getting impatient.

Akaashi quickly undid the button and zipper of his pants—jeans were such a nuisance when he was this worked up—and shucked them off as gracefully as he could with Bokuto still on top of him. As he wriggled free, Bokuto’s hand found its way to his ass, rubbing and squeezing through underwear. Akaashi haphazardly kicked the jeans across the room. He had bigger priorities, like Bokuto’s still-clothed ass.

Akaashi tugged on Bokuto’s pants, and Bokuto got the message. As he worked out of his clothes, Akaashi scooted towards the nightstand. Hot breath was on his neck again as he pulled out condoms and lube, and he felt the drag of skin up his thigh—hard, hot, and throbbing. Akaashi didn’t need to look down to know Bokuto removed more than just his shorts.

Akaashi rolled into an upright position and reached for Bokuto’s growing erection in time with Bokuto’s grab for the lube bottle. A moan poured out as Akaashi pumped firmly. Bokuto’s lips met Akaashi’s once more, and he pulled him sideways so that Akaashi’s lower half nearly hung off the edge of the bed. He stilled Akaashi’s hand and scooted off the mattress to kneel at the bedside in between Akaashi’s splayed legs. Bokuto popped open the bottle and applied a generous amount of lube on his fingers. Akaashi exhaled heavily when the excess lube dribbled off Bokuto’s fingers and onto his cock and balls and asshole.

Golden eyes met blue, and Akaashi nodded before Bokuto could ask. Bokuto traced a finger around Akaashi’s entrance, sensitive and quivering to the touch. He teased then prodded then penetrated with the tip of his middle finger. Akaashi laid back on the bed, eyes closed to experience the sensation as Bokuto worked his finger in completely. One finger became two, shallow then deep then intentional. Bokuto could tell from the seizing muscles, the twitching cock, and the breathy inhales when he hit Akaashi’s prostate. A slight brush sent tingles through Akaashi’s body, Bokuto knew, and that was a beautiful sight to behold. Bokuto settled in to a rhythm, steadily pumping three fingers now to ignite that spot while Akaashi breathed out small whines. Amidst his leisurely writhing on the bed, Akaashi glanced down and caught the intense concentration and tongue poking out of Bokuto’s mouth just before Bokuto leaned forward to—

Akaashi moaned, guttural and low, as Bokuto’s lips wrapped around his erection. Wet heat coupled with deft fingers, a scintillating combination of friction and suction, passionate and relentless and mind-blowing. His walls clenched. He leaked precum. He arched his back. Akaashi was close, so close. He knew this feeling of teetering on the edge—relished it unabashedly—but he knew what he wanted even more.

”Kō, wait,” Akaashi managed between moans, and Bokuto ceased immediately. He released Akaashi’s cock with a wet pop, drool dribbling down his chin, and stilled his fingers.

”You okay?”

”Yeah, I just,” Akaashi blushed, “I wanna cum with you inside me.”

Something animalistic sounded from deep in Bokuto’s throat. He extracted his fingers, and Akaashi whined at the loss but was soon distracted by the fervid light in Bokuto’s eyes as he climbed on top of him.

”Say that again,” Bokuto whispered gruffly, and Akaashi shuddered as the breath hit his neck.

Akaashi bucked his hips up into Bokuto’s, pulling a groan from the older man as he said, “Want you inside me when I cum.”

Bokuto devoured him in a kiss, ravenous and zealous. Akaashi melted as teeth clattered and tongues clashed. He startled when he felt the head of Bokuto’s cock rub against his entrance, wrapped and ready. When did Bokuto put the condom on? How is he guiding his cock so well without letting up from the kiss? While Akaashi marveled at how easily Bokuto maneuvered their bodies—a true testament to their familiarity with one another—Bokuto slipped in. Akaashi’s intake of breath was lost in the sloppy kiss. He bore down into the penetration in time with Bokuto’s upward thrust. Slowly and deliberately, Bokuto slid in to the hilt. Akaashi locked his legs around Bokuto’s waist and pulled from the kiss to mutter his command. “Move,” he breathed, and Bokuto happily complied.

The spread of his thighs, the weight of Bokuto’s body against his, the delectable stimulation of a thick cock thrusting in and out, in and out. Akaashi had the breath knocked out of his lungs with every snap of Bokuto’s hips, deep and fast and full. He fucking _loved_ it.

Bokuto nosed Akaashi’s ear, breathing heavily and sending shivers down his spine. Akaashi tangled his hand in Bokuto’s hair to hold on for dear life, and Bokuto purred, “Love you, babe.”

Akaashi gasped as the head of Bokuto’s cock brushed against his prostate, and he huffed back in between thrusts, “Love...you...too.”

Sweat-slicked skin, racing pulses, low grunts, a hand around his cock. Bokuto pumped Akaashi in time with the slam of his hips, flawlessly targeting that spot that made Akaashi scream, “Ah, Kō—yes, there, right there, I’m gonna—Kōtarō, oh god yes—don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t—“

Akaashi cried out and clenched down hard on the dick inside him as he climaxed. Semen painted his stomach as Bokuto kept a steady rhythm, jerking and fucking him through the orgasm. No whistles, no shoe squeaks, no escape to some better place inside his mind because there was simply no where else Akaashi wanted to be. His climax crested, his muscles relaxed, and Bokuto stilled his hips. He pressed his lips to Akaashi’s open, panting mouth and reached for a tissue to wipe off Akaashi’s chest.

Moments passed, Akaashi shifted up, and both boys groaned at the stiff member buried inside tight heat. Half-propped up on an elbow, Akaashi lightly pushed against Bokuto’s chest until Akaashi was positioned above him. His straddled Bokuto’s hips and sunk down until Bokuto was fully sheathed. Akaashi met Bokuto’s eyes through heavy lids. He licked his lips and watched a thrill race through Bokuto. He started to move.

Bokuto exhaled heavily as Akaashi lifted a fraction and slammed back down, again and again. Akaashi shut his eyes and let himself melt into the sensation: the slide of the dick, the strain of his thighs, the squeeze of hands on his ass. His energy was flagging and his consciousness was fading, but he pressed on. He wanted to make Bokuto feel good. As good as Bokuto made him feel. Good and loved and desired and wanted—that feeling that came with orgasms and tournament wins and fucking yourself dry and running for your life—chase that feeling, chase that feeling, chase that feeling—

”Akaashi? Keiji—fuck!”

Bokuto bucked involuntarily, and Akaashi felt his erection pulse as he came. Through hazy eyes, Akaashi noted the hint of concern in Bokuto’s blissed out expression. “Huh?” Akaashi breathed. He slowed his hips and dully noticed something sliding down his face.

”You’re crying,” Bokuto whispered as he traced a thumb under Akaashi’s eye.

”Oh.”

”You okay?”

”I—“ Akaashi wiped the remaining dampness from his cheeks. He hadn’t realized. “—I don’t...I don’t know.”

Bokuto lifted Akaashi’s hips, signaling for him to dismount. Akaashi slid off, reluctant at the loss and confused over the situation. Bokuto disposed of the condom and wrapped his arms around Akaashi to cuddle on their bed, steady and grounded. Akaashi’s eyes cleared, and Bokuto pressed his lips to the top of his boyfriend’s head. He murmured into the tousled locks, “Lets have dinner.”

***

Akaashi took a shower. Bokuto preheated the oven. The kittens chased each other around the apartment. Steam trailed him out of the bathroom as Akaashi leaned in the doorway to watch his favorite person hum and set a pan on the stove. Something rude and vicious and remorseful coiled in his gut. Akaashi didn’t want to acknowledge it which told him that was exactly what he needed to do.

He wrapped his arms around Bokuto’s waist from behind, and the older boy paused over the vegetables he was stir frying. They stayed like that, locked in comfort and closeness with Akaashi’s forehead pressed between Bokuto’s shoulder blades. Bokuto waited, and Akaashi finally mumbled, “I’m sorry.”

Bokuto leaned into the hug and said, “You don’t have anything to apologize for.”

”I know.” Akaashi tightened his grip on Bokuto’s apron. “I just...sometimes I think I’m totally fine and well-adjusted, but then...it’s like I’m never gonna be okay, and I don’t know how to even come close.”

Bokuto set down his spoon, shut off the stove, and turned to face Akaashi. He had to tilt his head down and lift Akaashi’s chin for their eyes to meet. Akaashi stopped growing after high school, but Bokuto shot up a few centimeters. He was taller, bigger, more defined—a benefit of being a professional athlete as opposed to an office-bound editor—but that didn’t stop him from being soft and flexible in Akaashi’s arms.

”Takes time, right?” He rested his arms on Akaashi’s shoulders and studied his eyes.

Akaashi sighed, “You sound like my therapist.”

”Well, she’s a smart lady.” Bokuto smiled and turned back to the stove. He mumbled softly, “Nothing’s impossible. Just hard. Take your time, Keiji.”

***

Five years is a long time.

Long enough for bruises to fade, for families to reconnect, and for truths to be revealed gradually and not always intentionally. They came out in the language he used, in his attitude towards money, in the occasional double takes he got from people who couldn’t quite remember the now defunct website they once visited. Apparently, truths came out in the middle of sex, too.

But in all things, they took their time. They sat down to dinner and poured a couple glasses of wine. They talked about their days and shooed the cats off the table. They paid their rent and visited each other at work, they took vacations and called on friends, they enjoyed each other’s company— _chose_ each other’s company. And neither too slowly nor too quickly, in every date and every conversation, every celebration and every misfortune, they learned and relearned who the other was, and who they were together.

Five years was a long time, Akaashi knew, but so was five more years, and ten years, and twenty. He could plan and try to keep track of every single thing, but in the end, he couldn’t predict the future nor change the past. He could only take it as it came and accept help from the kind of people that were hard to come by. It was tricky, tiring, scary work, but Akaashi took his time: for those he loved and especially for himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ch. 15 warnings: ooh smut. Smut of the sexy, loving BokuAka kind. Also, spoilers for _Haikyuu!!_ manga timeskip in terms of characters’ professions.
> 
> Thank you all for reading! This was my first story on AO3, and I really value all your comments and kudos. I look forward to writing more for y’all in the future!


End file.
